Casting the Stake
by LJ Summers
Summary: Written with the knowledge and consent of glitterally, author of The Bespoke Witch, this is a TBW AU. At the behest of their family Covenant, the Weasley sons Cast a Marriage Stake for Hermione Granger - but which of the brothers would she want to marry? New Cover art by Calebski! Polyandric themes, drama. HG/BW/CW/FW/GW/PW
1. Not a Prologue

**_Before we begin…A Note from the Author_**

 _Casting the Stake_ is a fanfic of a fanfic. It's actually a _The Bespoke Witch_ AU, written with the full knowledge of Glitterally (fka glittergrrrl05), author of _The Bespoke Witch_.

This is not a retelling of TBW. On the contrary, this is an exploration of a _What if…_? that occurred to me (and others, maybe) during the reading of that excellent fic. In TBW, there is a great deal to be said about the Sacred Twenty-Eight, Family Covenant Magic, and other things that I know nothing about. In TBW, marriage among the pure-bloods is conducted a bit differently, and the courtship processes can be rigid…but exciting!

The Malfoys are the heroes in TBW, having offered for Hermione Granger in a complicated arrangement with Dumbledore. It is mentioned, though, that the Weasley Covenant identified Hermione as Bespoke for _their_ family as well, but their stake was not cast unanimously, so they were not given precedence.

Besides, Hermione said, she looked upon the Weasleys as _brothers_. Every last one of them, from sexy Bill to the brilliant and playful twins. We're not even going to mention Ronald, okay?

In this AU, I'm changing things. (Alternate Universe for the win!) So go, read _The Bespoke Witch_ by glittergrrrl05. Right now. The link is in my Favorites. And then, you can come read _Casting the Stake_ if you'd like.

Some of the chapters will be very short, especially at the beginning. Please make sure to pay attention to the dates atop each section as they'll jump around a lot. Otherwise, you'd be reading a story about family dynamics and awkward social situations before we get to any good stuff.

Go on! Scoot! Go read _The Bespoke Witch!_

* * *

 **Not Really a Prologue**

 ** _Undisclosed Forest Location, 14 November 1997_**

Hermione had been crying. Again. Harry felt his chest tighten with impotent anger at their friend—Was Ron even still their friend?—who had left them so abruptly. Not only had Harry himself felt abandoned, but Hermione, whom he loved as he would have loved a sister (albeit a bossy older one), appeared to be utterly heartbroken as she hunched over their small fire, stirring a bit of tinned stew. Her hair was pulled back into a fluffy, barely-controlled bun that seemed to emphasize her bloodshot eyes and pale skin. November wasn't kind to anyone, Harry guessed. He didn't want to look in a mirror, either.

The Boy-Who-Researched nodded at the text he was studying and decided they could do it. Besides, it was a full moon, so the timing was perfect. "Hermione?" He did his best to sound confident in the confines of their tent.

"Almost done, Harry," she said listlessly, sliding him a quick glance. "What're you reading?"

He smiled. "You're not the only one who studies, you know."

That earned him a snort. "Honestly, Harry. Just tell me. You sound like you learned something important." Straightening up a bit, she tapped the spoon on the side of the pot. "Well?"

He took a breath. This _was_ important to him and he didn't want to screw it up. "Hermione. You know how I feel about you, right?"

Her eyes flared wide. "Er, Harry?" She couldn't meet his gaze for a moment and Harry tried to interpret her sudden, apparent nerves.

Then, he got it and chuckled. "You're like my sister, Hermione. _Sister_. Don't look so scared."

She laughed, then, and stood to grin down at him. "Well, yes. I love you like a brother, Harry. You know that." Spoon in one hand, she crossed the small space of floor to him and ruffled his hair. "And you need a haircut."

He rose, still holding the book. "And you need . . . a brother."

"Pardon?"

"Hermione Jean Granger, neither of us have a family, not really. We're children who lost their parents, who never had siblings. I- I'd like to change that. Make us brother and sister. For real."

She darted a glance at the book he held. "Is that what you've been doing?" she asked with a whisper. "Really?" As she met his eyes, hers were filled with cautious optimism that warmed him considerably. "Really, Harry?"

"Yeah. There's a spell we can do that would bind us as siblings. From names to magical signatures. Our DNA wouldn't change but—" He couldn't say any more as she threw her arms around him, inadvertently hitting him with her spoon.

"I've been feeling so alone," she murmured into his shoulder. "Since the airplane crash and my parents . . . and, and Ron . . ." Harry felt her sob once, hard, against him. "I'd love to be your sister, Harry James Potter."

So, that night over a small pot of thin stew, Harry Potter gained a sister: Hermione Jean Potter.

As he did so, he wondered if Professor Dumbledore had foreseen this, too, and how the name change and new relationship would affect affairs.

He also hoped Ginny wouldn't be upset; she had harbored a bit of uncertainty regarding his relationship with Hermione.

And if Ron ever came back, he would find that Harry protected whom he loved. Even against unexpected antagonists.


	2. 2 May 1998

**_A/N: First: Thank you, brave souls, who have reviewed, followed, and/or favorited from the "not a prologue" I posted. I hope you'll like how this shakes down. Remember, the chapters are short at first, but they'll be coming five days a week, barring FFn gremlins. And if you haven't read The Bespoke Witch by glittergrrrl05, you really should do that!_**

 ** _Legal Matters, effective for the entire story: This is a work of derivative fiction. I own many copyrights out in the world, but this is not among them, nor will it ever be. All things_ Harry Potter _are the intellectual property of J.K. Rowling and/or her assignees. I'm just exploring the What Ifs of her world._**

* * *

ONE

 ** _Hogwarts, 2 May 1998_**

"Hermione, please!" Bill Weasley cupped the young woman's shoulders with his palms as he stood before her. "You can't."

Cries, shouts, and lamentations rose into the air. "Harry . . . he said Harry's dead, Bill," Hermione whispered, her eyes red and wet. "He can't be—we fought so hard . . ." Her voice splintered. "It can't be for _nothing_." She shifted her feet as if she were going to try to get away from them, to find Harry, even if that meant running directly through the rows of Death Eaters before them.

George wrapped his arms around her from behind, pressing his lips to her battle-mussed hair. "Please don't go, love. We couldn't bear it." His heart felt as if it were cracking. After that near-miss with Fred and the wall, George didn't even know how he was standing any more. In the fire-edged paleness of the too-early hour, he didn't know how he was even _thinking_.

Hermione's voice quavered even as she held on to Bill with one hand and George with the other. "I have to try, guys. I have to. We have to get Nagini. And then - any of you can take him. Any one of us."

A new set of shouts exploded and the Weasley men turned as one, keeping Hermione safely within their midst. Bill stood before her and to one side, so she could see the limping, sorrow-strangled group of people led by Hagrid. Bringing Harry Potter's lifeless body to show to the warriors of the Light on this dark, dark day.

Hermione whimpered; it wasn't a sound any of the redheaded men around her could hear without their own hearts diving within their chests. Hermione Potter, bravest of women, brightest witch of her age, one of those credited with keeping Harry Potter alive for so long . . . "Harry," she rasped. "No!"

Fred pressed her into his side with one arm, feeling his twin tighten his arms about her middle. Percy, on her other side, had his wand out, his face set in taut lines. Charlie, the only one missing from their brotherhood, was with a dragon somewhere, hoping to be able to contribute once more on this dreadful day.

Fred just wanted them to still be alive when it was over. Alive and triumphant.

Despite the horror of this moment, he nuzzled their witch's left cheek, feeling the salty track of her tears and the grit of war. But he also felt her nuzzle him back and that—that was a sensation a man could face death having known.

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 _Note: Remember, I can't answer reviews if you're anonymous or not accepting PMs!_


	3. 20 December 1991

TWO

 ** _Hogwarts, 20 December, 1991_**

Percy Weasley smoothed his hands over his school robes, unable to help the glance he gave to his Prefect badge as he did so, just before entering the Great Hall on this, the last day of the term before the winter holiday. The noise from the Hall was escalating, which irritated him as he was positive he could pick out the loud, alternating voices of Fred and George even before stepping foot in the Hall for his breakfast.

"That's right, there, you vipers!"

"Best marks this term? Not yours!"

"We knew it!"

"They're ours!

"So put that in your potion—"

"And stew it!"

Disgusted at the claims his brothers were making, Percy frowned and strode angrily into the Great Hall, determined to end their shenanigans. "Fred! George!"

"Prefect Percy!"

"Our own brother!"

"We didn't do it!"

"Must be some other!"

The Gryffindors around them laughed uproariously at the ridiculous rhyme, but Percy didn't crack a smile. "I've _seen_ your marks this term," he stated, doing his best to look like a most proper Prefect. He wanted to be Head Boy in two years' time and he had to keep his brothers in line for that to happen, didn't he? Crossing his arms, he regarded them down his nose. They only smirked. "So stop trying to claim top marks."

"We're not, Perce!" Fred grinned and rose to move behind a first year whom Percy could vaguely remember. She was sitting between Percy's youngest brother and that Harry Potter fellow. "It's her! Hermione's the one with the top marks!"

Percy relaxed his stance. "So, that taunting was just House business?"

George nodded. "'Course it was, Perce. Wouldn't do to wind _you_ up, eh?"

"No." Turning his attention from his brothers, Percy focused on the girl. "Top marks, Miss . . . ?"

"Granger, sir." The girl blushed, darting quick glances at Ron and Potter. "Hermione Granger."

He rather liked being called "sir" so he smiled. "Well done, then. You do our House proud. I expect good things from you for the second half of the year."

She smiled at him and, even though she had something of an overbite, he still found her open respect and academic pride to be pleasing. He smiled back.

It was only later, as he was thinking in a solitary manner between patrols on the Hogwarts Express as it raced toward London, that he thought of Miss Granger again. He'd kept an eye on her until they boarded the train in Hogsmeade, concerned that her close association with his brothers might be troublesome for her. But she had proven herself above them, he believed, and that made him smile again.

Privately, but still.

* * *

 **A/N** : _My thanks to **glittergrrrl05** and **ShayaLonnie** for sending folks over, and to anyone else who's mentioned this TBW AU! _

_The chapters are really short this week, I know, but I am establishing relationships with vignettes so there really is a reason. They'll get longer as we move to the heart of the story._

 _See you tomorrow!_


	4. 2 August 1992

THREE

 ** _Flourish and Blotts, 2 August, 1992_**

The bookstore was closely inhabited by far too many people, the twins believed, though they could see that Gilderoy Lockhart's admirers were attempting to behave themselves. Some of them, though, looked rather more preoccupied than others.

"Gred?"

"Yeah, Forge?"

"Look there, isn't that Ron's friend? Granger?"

"Oh, yeah. Odd bird. I think Percy actually _liked_ her, last year."

"Well."

"Can't have that can we?"

"Ruin all her chances."

The twins sighed in tandem, but they smiled immediately thereafter and closed in on their prey just inside the door of Flourish and Blotts. She was standing behind the crowd staring at Gilderoy Lockhart, but they figured they could fix that.

"'Ere, Granger," the boys said in tandem. After all, she was watching the ridiculous fellow with wide eyes and she had no business looking at _him_ like that when Gred and Forge were in the store! A look between them conveyed both determination as well as a bit of bemusement about why they felt the way they did—however _that_ was. "Can't believe a word he says."

The girl blinked up at them as if trying to get a haze out of her vision. Fred felt a little sick. He didn't know why, but he did. He met George's glance with his own and they both shrugged.

Granger said, "He sounds like a perfectly splendid wizard, though. So brave! And he writes!"

"Fiction!" George spoke/coughed into one fist.

Fred did likewise, saying, "Liar!"

Then they smiled at her. "You want a handsome bloke? You come see us."

She rolled her eyes. "Really, Fred. Really, George. Go play that elsewhere. I'm wise to you."

Laughing, the twins fell to their knees in front of her, causing no little stir as they wrested public attention away from Lockhart. "We're wounded, Granger!"

"To the heart!"

Granger shook her head so that her hair moved in a wild cloud about her shoulders. "Honestly!"

What they might have said to that was lost when Lucius Malfoy and his son invaded the store. Tension vibrated in the air and George had the instinctive response to shield the little witch they'd been teasing.

Percy, who'd been nearer to their father, Arthur, reported later that he heard the elder Malfoy utter the words, "She's bespoke."

Those two words turned Arthur Weasley's ire. He stiffened and looked about. _That girl, there. Ron's friend, Hermione Granger. The Muggle-born._

Arthur felt a pushing in his chest, a feeling both like and unlike one he had felt many, many years before. Surprise had him widening his eyes. The family Covenant was pointing to that girl, as it had claimed his own Mollywobbles long ago. Though this bit of urging had nothing of the "She's yours!" feeling of his youth, Arthur heeded it nonetheless. His sons, after all, were likely too young to know how their Covenant could help them prosper as a family, never mind how it might nudge them one way or another.

The oldest with him just then was Percy, so he studied his serious son with an intense gaze for a moment. "Go, lad, and give a message to your brothers, will you? They're with Ron's friend."

"Is it about that girl?" Percy jerked his chin in the direction of the young girl, looking upset.

Arthur's brow furrowed and he pursed his lips. "Do you know something about her?"

"Miss Granger?" He looked confused for a moment, frowning and staring at his shoes. "Nothing bad. She's got top marks in school."

He nodded at his son and didn't question the academic evaluation, merely repeating his message.

Percy relayed his father's directive to the twins as they left the store a short while later. "Dad's calling a meeting before we go back to Hogwarts," he told them. "Leave the pranks in your pockets, eh?"

Having made sure that Granger was safely with her parents, Fred and George nodded. "How can we resist—"

"Such an invitation?"

* * *

 **A/N: Do not freak out. Arthur is NOT part of the Marriage Stake, k? _Breathe_.**


	5. 3 August 1992

**A/N: Just wanted to thank everyone for their responses to and support of this TBW AU! :)**

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FOUR

 ** _The Burrow, 3 August 1992_**

"Well, we know this is serious, eh?" Fred swirled the Butterbeer in its bottle. Condensation beaded up the neck, so he paid close attention. He didn't want to spill it; Dad looked far too upset to appreciate the mess.

Five of the Weasley men—Harry hadn't been invited and was at that time talking to Hedwig somewhere near the pond in the back—were seated with studied casualness around the kitchen table. It was far quieter than such a circumstance might usually warrant, which made everyone restless as they followed Fred's fine example and took a swig of their drink.

All except Ron. The youngest of them guzzled half his bottle down and belched loudly. "Oi! What'd you want, Dad?"

Arthur wasn't drinking Butterbeer; he had some amber Firewhisky in a small glass. "I'm wanting to remind you about The Hope."

Fred smirked, but only to cover up his immediate interest in the subject. For some reason, the brief reference to their family's Covenant, and the Hope of each generation of Weasley men for their Bespoken One, made him think of a young girl with abundantly curly hair that dared him to, to—to, well, think of things he shouldn't even consider, seeing as how she was so young.

At least, this year.

Ron scratched at his head. "That again? Dad, c'mon now. I'm only twelve. Not _even_ wanting to think about this."

"But you _have_ to," Percy stated, his voice even and deadly serious. "We can't do anything 'til you're eighteen, but we're waiting."

Arthur sipped at his drink. "Well, technically, we only have to wait until she's sixteen. If all of you who are of age by then cast a unanimous stake, it should still count." He caught Percy's eye. "You do know whom I'm talking about, right?"

"I do. I've spoken with her. She's very bright, and very determined." Percy felt himself flush as his brothers stared at him with their mouths gaping. "What? She's interested in Transfiguration, you know. Had the highest marks of her year."

"Hermione? But she's from a Muggle family," Ron protested. "Her parents won't have a clue."

"She'd need a Wizarding guardian to speak for her," Percy opined. "Someone who knows the old customs."

George frowned; this was indeed a serious topic. As such, granted, it wasn't one he and his twin dwelt on. They didn't date and hadn't really thought about it much. Girls were pretty, smelled good, and it was always fun to make them laugh but—

"Even we keep it in mind," Fred volunteered. "We're only fourteen, sure, but we don't want to fu– er, _ruin_ this for Bill and Charlie."

"Or Percy," their father added with a shake of his head. "I only bring it up because Lucius Malfoy—"

"He's a total wanker, Dad!" Ron asserted before taking another long pull on his Butterbeer.

Fred agreed. "Does this have to do with that fight?"

Arthur swirled his Firewhisky about again. "No. Not exactly, but he brought up the topic. He seems to think he's found the Malfoy Covenant's Bespoken One."

Percy jerked as if he'd been hit with something itchy in DADA. "How will we know that for ourselves, Dad?"

George drew wet circles on the table with his Butterbeer bottle. "Got yourself a bird in mind, Perce?"

"I am not altogether sure. I am trusting in our Hope," the Prefect retorted with every evidence of wand-up-arse.

Their father met and held four different sets of blue and/or brown eyes. "I know it's hard, boys. My brothers had to wait too, and I felt a lot of pressure from them."

"Oi!" Fred protested. "We're men!"

Arthur laughed. "I know you are, son. I know. Didn't know, though, if you'd, er, seen girls as anything other than pranking targets."

George knew he and Fred were blushing; he didn't have to check his twin's skin to find out. "Sure we do, Dad," they said in unison.

"Pretty birds, here and there, you know."

"Saw one in Diagon Alley."

Percy perked up. " _You, too_? And did she . . . Well, did you—"

 _Ha,_ George thought. _So old Percy isn't as self-righteous as he makes it out, is he?_ Suppressing a smile he asked,"I know you've explained it before, Dad, but how do we know?"

Arthur sighed and finally threw back the entire contents of his glass. "Right then. It's like this."

As he endeavored to explain how the Covenant communicated to each wizard involved, no one noticed that Ron fell asleep until the youngest Weasley fell off his chair.

He continued to snore.

George and Fred exchanged a look and shook their heads. "He's another problem, Dad."

"Granger? She treats him like a brother."

"Us, too."

Arthur cocked a brow at his sons. "Are you certain of it? Like a brother?"

"She's not like other girls—"

"No giggling!"

"She's only twelve," Percy pointed out as if speaking to very young children.

Fred wiggled his brows. "Your point?"

Arthur regarded Ron, who still snored on the floor. "Well, I wouldn't want her uncomfortable, to be sure."

"So no courting, Percy!" George teased with a wiggle of his Butterbeer bottle.

Percy looked offended. "I would never."

"Never?"

The studious Weasley son surprised everyone by turning pink all the way out to his ears. "Well, not formally, of course. It would be improper. And she's only twelve."

"Well, we're fourteen," Fred reminded his brother.

"Closer in age and all that. We'll do it."

Arthur just stared at the twins, unable to tell for certain if they were serious or not. He decided that their ages might defend them if they took things a bit too far.

At least, he hoped so. He had to trust that his sons understood the family Covenant and weren't mistaking an appreciation for a peculiar sense of humor for something more binding.

* * *

 _ **A/N: Just for the record, the Weasley boys aren't going to be "going after" Our Heroine while she is**_ **this** _ **young. A lot of the teasing references to courting and pursuit are more along the line of messing with their brother than anything else. You'll note Percy was quite discomfited, but he still tried to retain his dignity. "Marriage" is standing out there in block letters regarding their Bespoke Witch, but it's something in the far distance, to be joked about, wondered about, and so on until a more appropriate time.**_


	6. 3 May 1998

_**A/N: Thank you again, folks, for all your support! It's so great to hear from you.**_

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FIVE

 ** _Hogwarts, 3 May 1998_**

Charlie couldn't seem to tear himself from Hermione's side, so he tagged along from cot to cot, through strips of fading sunshine as she helped Madam Pomfrey in the Hospital Wing at Hogwarts. Hermione looked so fragile, but so determined. He couldn't tell her to go home—she had no home to go to, as far as he knew. And all of the Weasleys who could and would have given her a home were there at the school, helping just as she was.

But when their Bespoken One fell into a doze while holding a poultice to Percy's spell-damaged torso, Charlie stepped in with all the confidence of a man of action.

His brother was still conscious, so Charlie signaled for quiet before seeing to the proper positioning of the poultice. With potions in short supply, the Healers were doing their level best to extend what they had as far as possible, which included poultices rather than drinking a potion straight down. In such a way, Hermione had said hours since, one bottled potion could serve three or four people, albeit not as efficiently.

"Come, love," he murmured, gathering the girl in his arms and shifting until he held her comfortably. "Let's find you a place to rest, yeah? Percy?"

The spell damage was concentrated in his chest, but Percy wasn't able to do more than flicker a hand in assent.

"You'll do all right, won't you? Can't have our witch falling on top of you." Charlie tried to smile, tried to look positive and encouraging. He had lots of practice; among his colleagues, serious physical injuries were common enough.

Percy nodded, though it was clear that even that movement caused him pain. Charlie hid his worry. "I'll call Mum to you, yeah?" Another nod. "Fine, then. Let me get her settled."

Poor Hermione. She hadn't had time to do much more than cleanse herself with harsh _Scourgify_ spells, so she still wore what he'd found her in the day before. Torn and bloodstained, her jeans and shirt spoke of how much she had endured and it tore at Charlie's heart. He didn't have the right, yet, to do more than just take care of her, but he did his best. And, though, technically hand-holding would be all that he would be allowed if their Stake were ever presented to her—damn that Dumbledore and his sense of timing, anyway—for now, he was honor bound to protect her and guard her virtue but not prohibited from anything specific. The mental reminder made him smile a little, even amongst the ruins.

Stepping carefully around clusters of people busy cleaning up the castle, Charlie made his way to the familiar Gryffindor common room. It was not too busy at this hour as most able-bodied Gryffindors were helping right the castle or grounds, or they had gone home.

Hermione stirred a little, the curves of her body pressing into the planes of his. He blew out a careful breath. "Hermione?"

"What?" she asked, not opening her eyes but rather burrowing into his torso.

He smiled; she had to be mostly unaware at the moment. She had not behaved quite _this_ familiarly with him before. "Time to grab a quick kip, love."

She blinked slowly, peering up into his face as he sat on the sofa nearest the dark hearth. "Charlie?"

"That's me. Hush, now. You need to rest. You fell asleep treating a patient."

Her blush was fiery. "Sorry. Sure, of course. Let me—" She squirmed a bit in his arms as if trying to get him to let her go.

He would not, though it battered at his resistance to hold her still when she was rubbing against him. Still, his heart swelled with love for her and a protectiveness that was firmly reinforced. "No. You just stay right here with me, and I'll guard your rest like a dragon guards her eggs."

She snorted. "Know what? Too tired to hex you, now. But wait. It'll happen."

Charlie gathered one of his happiest thoughts to the forefront of his mind and said, " _Expecto Patronum_!" When he had learned to cast his Patronus after joining the dragonfolk in Romania, no one had been surprised to find that his was a Chinese Fireball. Wild and free, with his heart in the sky, that was Charlie Weasley. "Mum," he said while Hermione watched him with sleep-narrowed eyes, "Percy could use some attention." Then his dragon flew from the common room and Charlie could finally relax.

Settling himself back into the forgiving cushions of the sofa, he smiled as Hermione unconsciously conformed herself to his body while she slept. He closed his eyes and let himself appreciate how much of a woman she was now, compared to the girl she'd been when first he met her. Back then, he never would have dared to hold her this close.

But back then, he wasn't really thinking of the Malfoys, either.

* * *

 _ **A/N: See you Monday!**_


	7. Quidditch World Cup 1994

**_A/N: Thank you so much for the reviews! I try to answer everybody personally as I so enjoy interacting with y'all. Big thanks to ShayaLonnie for being #100 on this fic. She's the author of another of my favorite fics, The Debt of Time. You should read it!_**

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SIX

 ** _Quidditch World Cup, 1994_**

"Charlie!"

"Bill!"

The red-headed men all but collided in their brotherly enthusiasm in the midst of the camping area and all the colorful tents. Their family wasn't surrounded with either Irish shamrocks or the garish moving posters from Bulgaria that featured Viktor Krum, but Charlie was relieved more than otherwise. Much as he enjoyed the sport, he would as soon not be surrounded by fangirls.

Unless they wanted to meet a dragon tamer!

Thumping one another on the back, the men separated but walked as if joined at the arm. Bill was taller than his next-youngest brother but Charlie had a more obvious muscularity, encouraged by years of sport and dragons. They had always been close to one another, enjoying also the responsibility of helping raise their younger brothers and, more lately, giving advice to Sister Surprise—a.k.a. Ginevra. As they walked, they kept their gazes on the milling Quidditch fans, but their conversation flowed as if it were just the two of them over a pint of Butterbeer.

"So." Bill's lead in was not brilliant, but he wasn't sure how to begin.

Charlie was rather more fearless. "The twins said they've found her."

Rolling the tension from his shoulders, Bill nodded. "That's what I hear. Have you met her?"

"Don't think so. That's one reason Dad wanted us to put in an appearance here, though."

Anticipation surged through Charlie's entire body. The Hope. The one that he had been raised with. He was a child of a Bespoken One—his mother Molly had been Wife to four Weasley men at one point, and had had children by three of them—and he knew how greatly she was prized. He would, of course, expect to see his— _their_ —Bespoken One with like honor.

And, of course, desire. He never doubted that.

Still, he tried to keep a rein on a sudden rush of fantasies. Fantasies that, if he and his brothers could Cast their Stake for their Bespoken One, might come true sooner rather than later. "Do we know who she is?"

"The twins and Percy do."

Some of Charlie's anticipation took a nosedive at Bill's careful response. "So, she's still at Hogwarts."

Bill sighed and kicked at a rock. It bounced away from them, only to hit the shin of a girl who had just come around a tent corner with two boys. "Yeah. And then there's the whole 'unanimous' thing."

"Who?" He didn't have to elaborate; he and Bill both knew if unanimity was a problem, then one of their brothers was refusing to acknowledge their Bespoke Witch. He hadn't even met her but already Charlie was getting hot like dragon fire in defense of their choice.

"Oi! Bill! Charlie!"

"Ron," Bill muttered in answer before stopping to greet their youngest brother and his friends. "Ron! Good to see you."

Charlie waited to see if Ron remembered his manners, but when the silence got too awkward, the dragon tamer decided to remember _his_. "Since Ron isn't going to do it, let me introduce myself," he said with half a smile. "I'm one of Ron's brothers, Charlie. This is Bill, the eldest of us all."

"I'm not that old," Bill retorted, stepping up to shake hands with the kids. "Who're you?" He eyed Ron, but Ron didn't even take the hint.

The girl huffed, looking quite put out. Charlie figured her irritation was directed at Ron, but she shook Bill's hand. "I'm Hermione. Hermione Granger. This is Harry Potter." She said this last with a defensive air about her, as if expecting an adverse reaction.

Bill still had her hand in his when he exclaimed, "Merlin!" Oddly enough, he wasn't looking at the boy with the scar on his forehead; his attention was all on the Granger girl and he appeared as if he'd been stunned. "Sorry. I didn't mean for that rock to hit you." She just rolled her eyes as if being hit by bouncing missiles was all in a day's work for her.

"Potter?" Charlie asked, trying to get Bill to refocus. "Really?" He extended his hand. "A pleasure to meet you. Heard a lot about you."

The boy scratched at his neck and didn't meet his eye. "Er, thanks. You, too." He looked up again and shook hands. "Dragons, yeah?"

It was his favorite topic and Charlie was prepared to enter into it with enthusiasm when he noted that Bill—his sensible, curse-breaking brother—was still staring at the girl. "Er, Bill?"

Bill's blue eyes were wild when they met his. "Yeah? Right. This is _Hermione_ , Charlie." He stressed her name, pronouncing it as if it were as significant as Merlin's own.

"Hermione," Charlie repeated. "Got it. And that's Harry Potter."

"Harry. Good to meet you. Yeah." Bill was still clearly out of sorts as he tugged on the queue of hair at his neck. "I'm Bill," he said, turning to speak directly to the girl.

She smiled tolerantly at him for a moment before her expression lit up. "Bill! Of course! More O.W.L.s than anyone ever had at Hogwarts! I remember hearing about you!"

The tension which had seemed to be layering itself between Bill and the girl broke at that point and even Ron laughed. "Of course she's heard of you, Bill. If it's about school, she knows it."

The Granger girl blushed and slid her wand from her pocket to fiddle with it. The Potter boy wrapped one arm around her and pulled her in for half a hug. "She's smart, this one is. And you're cool, Bill, Charlie." He nodded and appeared more comfortable. "Curse breaker, yeah?"

"I work for Gringotts."

The Quidditch fans continued to walk to and fro, treating the Weasley-Potter-Granger group as if they were a stationary fixture in the midst of the camping grounds. All at once, Charlie felt exposed and cleared his throat to make sure he had Bill's attention. "All right, then. Mum's got you lot on some sort of timetable, I reckon, yeah?"

Ron nodded. "Yeah. Hermione's watch is pretty reliable, though, so we won't be late for supper. See you then?" He took off, mannerless as always.

Charlie offered the other two, who looked torn between following Ron and being polite to his older brothers, a smile. "Go on, you. See you later." He clapped Potter on his shoulder and went to do the same to the girl, but she shifted a bit and his hand brushed the skin of her throat, so that his fingers seemed to comb through the wild, sunlit curls that bounced on her shoulder. "Er, sorry," he managed to say, though his voice sounded strange to him.

"She's the one," he whispered as the young folk disappeared between chattering groups of people speaking a multiplicity of tongues. "Bill—that's _her_." Bill just nodded, staring after her. Nerves thrummed under Charlie's skin but he fought them down and made himself start to walk at a slow pace in the opposite direction. "So what do we do now?"

"What the bloody hell _can_ we do, Charlie? She's only fourteen, yeah? Ron's age?"

"Shite."

"Yeah."

* * *

Charlie was unsurprised that he and four of his brothers were standing, fists clenched and eyes narrowed, as Hermione Granger returned from her harrowing experience of being hunted by Death Eaters. One by one, each of them managed to move their blankets and pillows to surround the girl, making a perimeter of wizards that were determined to let no harm come to the teenager with the wild hair and freckles in their midst.

Percy rubbed at the middle of his forehead as he sat up for his watch. "Charlie?" he whispered.

"Yeah, Perce?"

It was unusual to see their straitlaced, rule-mongering, middle brother so out of sorts. "Do you see it, too? With . . . with her?"

Charlie blew out a breath and dared to study the sleeping girl. He was not the only one doing so. George was awake, too, wand out and vigilant. "I do. Something else, yeah?"

"Yeah," Percy confessed with an uneasy chuckle. "But she has to be sixteen . . ." A Bespoke Witch could not be formally pursued until she was sixteen years of age. Of course Percy knew the rules and would make sure they all adhered to them.

Damn the man.

"When will that happen?" Charlie wondered, trying to find a comfortable spot to settle his spine.

"September of next year," his brother answered softly.

Optimism flared a bit within Charlie's chest. "Well then. We can work with that."


	8. 1 September 1994

_**A/N: In canon, Percy and Hermione got along well until the House-Elf Incident at the World Cup. In this AU, that incident hasn't happened. So Hermione is still in perfect charity with Percy. Carry on.**_

* * *

SEVEN

 ** _Kings Cross Station, 1 September 1994_**

It felt odd to Percy, not preparing to get on the Hogwarts Express that day. He had graduated as Head Boy just months before and, though he had a respectable job within the Ministry, part of him still felt as if he should be heading back to school.

Perhaps it was because of _her_. Their Bespoke Witch had spent most of the summer with them, and it had been rough on all of them when she'd gone back to her parents not long before, to spend time with her family. Her life had been in danger at the World Cup, after all, and the need to protect her had been rather consuming.

Seeing her again, hugging her parents goodbye before pushing her trolley through to Platform 9 3/4, had eased a worry that he had only been peripherally aware of, what with one thing and another. He followed her through and caught Fred's gaze as the elder twin was swinging up into the train. Fred would come out again, he was pretty sure.

"Percy! Good to see you. It'll be odd at school without you as Head Boy," the young witch said, her smile shy but welcome.

Got him all flustered, really, but Percy tried not to let it show. "I was just thinking the same thing. You're still studying Transfiguration, right?"

"Absolutely!" Her eyes glowed and he couldn't help his smile. "It's still required, but I'd take it even if it weren't."

"What electives are you wanting this term?" he asked, interested in her academics as always.

Harry Potter and Ron ambled up and tugged on her arm, interrupting and pulling her off for a moment for some private conversation. Percy glanced around and saw the twins were coming off the train as he expected. He beckoned them over.

"Now, you two keep an eye on her," he murmured while casting a furtive look about to make sure no one overheard them. "No pranking or anything."

George smiled a little before shaking his head. "No pranks. Not on her, anyway."

"Too bad _you_ can't be in charge of the whole thing, eh, Perce?" Fred met his brother's eye with a grin of his own. "It's gonna kill you, knowing that _we're_ the family representatives."

"And Ron," George added with an overly-officious air.

Even Percy had to roll his eyes at that. "They're friends. Just make sure he isn't a prat, eh?"

Fred made a dismissive gesture with one hand. "Can't fight nature, can we? But what we can do is make his life a little more miserable if he _is_ a prat."

"Cor! Get his dorm mates to help, too!" George's grin was broad. "Got some new pranks we've been working on, haven't we Gred?"

"Indeed we do, Forge. Ron would make a perfect tester."

Percy angled a brow at his brothers. "Do not lose us any points."

"No 'us' anymore, Perce. You've off and graduated, haven't you?"

"Shut it, you," Fred said in a harsh whisper. "They're back and Mum's with 'em."

"Oh, Hermione, dear. Do be safe. Remember to keep our boys in line." Molly Weasley did her best to keep the hope from her voice and eyes, but she didn't know if she succeeded. That the boys had found their Bespoken One. . .! It was such a joy to her heart, such a feeling of completion. She had watched them all their lives, knowing as a House Wife what they had done and how the story could end. . . Hopefully. How much did the girl know about the pure-blood traditions? Would she understand? Molly made a mental note to herself to ask around; it wouldn't do to frighten the girl. House Wives had to stick together.

Young Hermione nodded with a small smile. "I'll do my best, Mrs. Weasley."

Bill placed his hand on Molly's back between her shoulder blades, in a comforting manner. "Right there, Miss Granger. I know the twins can be a tough lot, but I have faith in you."

" _Hermione_ , Bill."

" _Hermione_. Of course."

Molly wondered if her eldest knew how warm his voice was, how tender his smile. She didn't know if Hermione would pick up on it, but she _hoped_ . . .

It always came back to that, didn't it?

"I don't know if either Fred or George would listen to a thing I say," Hermione told Bill. "It's like they've got their own plan, you know? And their studies don't seem to be nearly as important as whatever it is they're plotting."

Bill cocked his head, and his mother saw the proud light in his eyes when he said, "That could very well be true, you know. They've always seen things a bit differently than the rest of us."

"Stop it," Molly insisted. "They only got three O.W.L.s apiece and I'm still upset with them."

Charlie swept in on their little conversation, his manner open and engaging. "Oi, there! Is Mum reminding you about winding your watch or something?" He used the question as an excuse to take Hermione's left hand to ostensibly check her timepiece.

The girl laughed, her cheeks pinking up with a blush. "Nothing like that, Charlie."

She didn't withdraw her hand.

Molly was fairly beaming by the time the twins flanked Hermione and bustled her on board.

"Come on, then, Granger!"

"We've got a cabin all picked out—"

"And you'll love it."

Molly heard Hermione laugh. "Why?"

"There's already a copy of _Hogwarts, A History_ in it!" the boys announced as if declaring the seats within were made of gold.

Bill, Charlie, and Percy stood in a row as the train took off for parts north. Molly, who was standing in front of them, looked over her shoulders to meet each son's eye. "That was very well done of all of you."

Bill's expression was serene. "Not too much longer, now, eh?"

Charlie's grin was wide. "Not at all. And the twins'll keep her close this year."

Percy scratched at the back of his neck. "They'll have to. The lads from Durmstrang'll be all over her, else."

His brothers rounded on him, each gripping one of his shoulders as their eyes flared with protective concern. "What?"

Percy grimaced and kept his voice low. "Shut it, the pair of you. The Triwizard is happening this year. I've already heard about it at the office."

"Shite," Bill and Charlie said in tandem.

Molly, standing behind them, could only agree. And continue to hope.


	9. 10 December 1994

_**A/N: Would you believe this is one of my favorite chapters to this little story?**_

* * *

EIGHT

 ** _Hogwarts, 10 December 1994_**

"Hermione!"

"Oi! Granger!"

Fred and George reinforced their strategy with a couple wiggles of an eyebrow and the jutting of a chin as they tried to get a moment with Hermione before she could reach their table in the Great Hall for lunch. The twins had Transfiguration first thing that morning, giving them first notice of the Yule Ball, or so they thought.

Hermione Granger was, however, already being approached!

"Gred, we have a problem."

"Forge, we will find a solution."

Their Bespoken One was, at that point, the center of a growing number of uniformed boys from Durmstrang, including famed Quidditch star, Viktor Krum.

"Ve heard ov a ball, and ve vanted to know if you had heard ov same?" one of the Bulgarians asked the young witch.

Still with her bag over her shoulder, Hermione looked a bit out of sorts and definitely uncomfortable as students crowded in for lunch and, perforce, pushed her even closer to the young men who were at Hogwarts for the Triwizard Tournament.

"It's Krum," Fred muttered. "He's practically drooling on our Hermione."

"We've got to keep him away from her."

"But he's a Champion. And he's famous!" Fred set his jaw and George clapped him on the shoulder. "But we're Gred and Forge. I know."

George shoved him just a hair. "Too right. Come on, let's rescue our girl."

"Our Hermione," Fred repeated quietly. "Right."

"No pranks," George whispered at a barely audible level as they approached the Bulgarians.

"She'd accept one of _them_ just to take the mickey out of us if we did," Fred said in agreement. "Right, then."

Hermione was too occupied in being polite to the visiting scholars to notice that Fred and George were trying to rescue her. "I hadn't heard of the Yule Ball yet. Are you certain? Headmaster Dumbledore hasn't yet mentioned it."

"Ve heard ov it in Potions, from Snape."

"Professor Snape," Hermione corrected with predictable immediacy.

George couldn't help but smile. "Hermione!"

The Bulgarian Contingent scowled simultaneously as if they'd rehearsed. "You are Veesleys."

"You haff brodare."

Fred and George insinuated themselves into the group so that they flanked Hermione. "Your point?"

"He is boyvriend?"

Hermione made an impatient motion with her hands. "I _am_ here to answer for myself, you know. No, Ronald is _not_ my boyfriend, but he _is_ my friend. I will know more about a ball when I hear about it from the Headmaster. And I have to eat now, or I won't have time to study. Excuse me, gentlemen."

George smiled down at her. "C'mon, we'll sit with you." They had made a semi-regular habit of so doing over the years, so it would not come as a surprise to her or anyone else.

"Keep those mispronouncing Bulgarians away," Fred added.

"Honestly! I _am_ capable of handling out of town guests," Hermione reminded them. "Really."

George made a big deal out of bowing her to her seat at the Gryffindor table. "We know."

"Just wanted you to have back-up."

"Besides, we had a question to ask you."

The twins settled themselves across from the curly-haired witch and shared one last, bracing look at one another. Fred tried on a grin. "Have you heard there's a Yule Ball this year?"

George ignored Hermione's incredulous expression and plowed ahead. "McGonagall—"

" _Professor_ McGonagall!"

With a tolerant smile, he made to correct himself. " _Professor_ McGonagall announced it during Transfiguration first thing this morning."

Hermione cocked her head and rocked back a little to meet the gaze of each of the boys with her own. "Really? So it's true?"

"It is! And we were wondering . . ."

"If you'd do us the great honor . . ."

"Of coming with us!" the twins concluded in unison.

She hadn't even reached for her soup spoon yet. Her eyes widened and her mouth—and hadn't it become a shapely one, they couldn't help noticing—opened. "You?" In a heartbeat, her expression shifted to skeptical and she made a play out of investigating every dish on the table in between the three of them. "Right. And then if I were to say _yes_ , does my soup become a fountain, with the vegetables spelling out _Granger Is Gullible_?"

George felt genuine pain in his chest at her accusation. "No," he murmured.

Fred frowned. "Why do you think we'd do that to you, Granger?"

The boys saw her face redden and she dropped her gaze. "I just—it doesn't seem like something you'd—I mean, I'm just _me_ , right?"

George stood to lean over the table so that he could tilt her head back a bit. He didn't care who saw them, but he rather hoped Malfoy did. Bespoke for the Malfoy Covenant? Not when there were Weasleys in the house. "Hermione. Use that amazing brain of yours, eh?"

"What he said," Fred added, moving his foot to touch hers under the table.

She half jumped on her seat. "What?" Her focus flitted from Fred to George and they could see the wheels start turning.

Trouble was, she was probably missing a few things. Things they couldn't tell her. Yet.

"Think about it, love," George said, still leaning toward her. "Have we ever said or done anything to embarrass you like that?"

With a blush, she ducked her head. "Well, no, but, I mean, I know we're friends and all. But I don't want a, a _pity_ date."

George resumed his seat with an ungraceful _oof_ , though he cast his gaze about to see that they did indeed have a bit of an audience. "Pity? Us?"

Fred rescued him with a playful moment of melodrama. "Granger! We're wounded," he declared loudly with a hand over his heart.

Ron, the prat, was shoveling food in his mouth with one hand while watching them with wide eyes. Harry, with a cynical gaze, seemed content to let them act as they wished so long as they didn't upset his best friend.

George decided to try again. "So, we heard you didn't know about the ball, yeah?"

"Well, not until you said Professor McGonagall—"

"There _is_ a Yule Ball," Fred interrupted, sliding Hermione's soup back in front of her and levitating some bread and butter while he was at it. Might as well impress her if he could. "Trust us."

She laughed, short and hard. "All right. So no, I didn't know before now."

George cocked his head and nodded with approval at his twin's arrangements. He himself levitated and poured pumpkin juice for the smiling witch in front of them. Non-verbally. Her eyes grew round in obvious admiration and George preened a little. "Right, then. So, now that you do know, is there anyone you would have thought would have asked you to it? Is that why you didn't jump at the chance," he went on, still with the melodrama just to keep it from getting too heavy, "to go with the most brilliant twins at Hogwarts?"

With an almost invisible flicker, Hermione's cinnamon gaze moved in Ron's direction, but their little brother had very, _very_ obviously turned his entire body to talk to Seamus.

George wanted to thrash him, but it wasn't time. Ron was the only one of their brothers who had not endorsed the plan to Cast a Stake for Hermione and that was really pissing him off. Not only did it leave them in the lurch, but Ron also hurt their Bespoke Witch, and that wasn't to be tolerated. Still, there was time.

"Did you want to go with Harry, maybe?" Fred asked, trying to sound casual.

George mimicked his brother's attitude. "We know you help him out and all. You're close, yeah?"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Honestly! No. He's like, like the brother I never had. Of course I help him," she added quietly, leaning closer to the twins. "I have to." When they nodded, she did as well. "So, no. I mean, I'd dance with him, sure, but only if he took lessons."

"We'll take lessons," George assured her with a smile.

Fred grinned. "Professor McGonagall said we could. All of us, if we needed to." He pantomimed dancing right there on the bench.

Hermione laughed a little and George took a deep, relieved breath. "So, if we promise, will you go with us?"

Her eyes were shining softly. "With which one?"

"Well, both, of course."

"We're a package deal!"

"We'd take turns dancing, of course."

"Or we'd step on your toes." Fred finished by lightly tapping on hers. He was gratified to see her blush.

"Will you?" they asked in tandem.

Her smile warmed their hearts. "All right. I will. If you're sure."

Fred brushed her ankle with his toe, wondering if she'd blush again. She did. George hadn't caught on, but he'd tell his twin later. "We're sure. And hey, if Krum—"

"Or _any_ of the lads from Durmstrang—!"

"Ask? You've got a date."

Hermione laughed lightly. "Apparently, I've got two!"

* * *

 ** _A/N: For canonical dates and other specific references, I've been relying on the Harry Potter Wikia and the Harry Potter Lexicon. Where there are no specifics when I need them, I'm trying to be reasonable. Of course, I sometimes eschew canon. . ._**


	10. 22 September 1996

_**A/N: Now I know this is a moment some of you have been waiting for...**_

* * *

NINE

 ** _The Burrow, 22 September 1996_**

"Where's Percy?" Molly asked, her eyes flaring with impatience. "It won't look right if he's not here!"

Arthur rose from his chair near the fire and wrapped his arms around his Wife. "He'll be here, Molly. You'll see. He's the first one of the boys to have recognized her, remember. He won't forget."

The Weasley brothers were on edge, every last one of them. Bill didn't endeavor to disguise his anticipation as he paced to the left of the hearth, the precious scroll in his hands. "Dumbledore knows we're firecalling him tonight, right?"

Charlie—who'd been playing it cool with his _I Run With Dragons and Nothing You Can Do Will Bother Me_ face firmly in place—reached up to grab his brother with one firm hand. "Yes. And you know he probably already knows what we're wanting to speak to him about." He nodded as if that settled everything.

"So he won't have her there, will he?"

"Why would he? D'you think she'd be in his office of an evening?" Charlie shook his head, smiling at his brother's nerves. "Breathe, Bill."

Fred snorted. He and George were planted right in front of the hearth, very conspicuously playing Exploding Snap. Bill would be their spokesman, true, but the twins refused to be put in any minor role for this discussion. Everything mattered and they wanted to make sure to put forth a most favorable impression, despite the fact that they'd never been Head Boy or Prefects or anything like that. They were successful businessmen, and that had to count for something, right?

Molly harrumphed loudly and bustled off to the dining room to check the clock. Percy's hand listed At Work, so she frowned mightily at the thing and returned to the hearth. "Well, he's at work. You should just call. We don't want this not to work." Molly mustered a smile despite her worry.

"I'm here! I'm here!" Percy's voice echoed from the front door. "Sorry! Wait for me!"

Bill smiled and met Charlie's eye. "About time!" Percy scrambled into the room, his eyes wide and mouth open to draw in deep breaths. All right. Let's." He tossed in the Floo powder and called, "Professor Dumbledore's Office, Hogwarts!"

Flames flared briefly before the old wizard's visage appeared before them. "Good evening, Mr. Weasley. Oh, I see your brothers are with you." The image of the Headmaster's face seemed mottled, but eminently mobile as he greeted each of the brothers by name. "To what do I owe the pleasure of your call?"

Bill took a deep breath and knelt between the twins in front of the hearth. "We're calling because we understand that you are accepting Stakes on behalf of Hermione Jean Granger." All his brothers exhaled in unison at that point, which almost made Bill smile. He didn't. When Dumbledore didn't respond right away, Bill continued. "We heard that, despite the upheaval that occurred last year at Hogwarts, a Stake had been cast for Miss Granger."

"Who mentioned this? Not even Miss Granger herself has been made aware of it!" The Headmaster's scowl was visible even in the flames.

Bill determinedly did _not_ eye his brothers as he shrugged. "We don't know for _sure_ which House cast their Stake," he said mildly, "but we have our suspicions. And we wanted to present our own for Casting." He held up their Covenant-blessed scroll. "Are you prepared to receive it on Hermione Granger's behalf, as her Wizarding guardian?"

Dumbledore nodded and they could all see that he tugged at his beard. "I am."

Charlie and Percy knelt with their brothers, each one calling on the family Covenant to imbue the Scroll with their own individual magical signatures. "On behalf of the Weasley brothers, then, I'd like to bring you our Stake for Hermione Jean Granger."

Charlie sprinkled more powder on the scroll just in case and Bill said, "Coming through!" before entering the Floo.

Dumbledore gravely met him. "Your Covenant has spoken?"

"Yes." Bill held out the scroll. "Do you accept the charge?"

"I do."

With a steady hand, Bill relinquished the Stake into the Headmaster's wrinkled hands. "It's good that she has Wizarding guardians," Bill remarked, feeling even then a bit unwilling to let the thing leave his control and supervision, such as it was. "It is our hope that Hermione be duly instructed about the Covenant Magic before she is presented with any Stakes."

Dumbledore seemed to start a moment, a furrow briefly appearing between his bushy eyebrows. It smoothed away so quickly, though, that Bill wondered if he'd imagined it.

"I'm sure she will be," Dumbledore said coolly. "And I will keep this safe. Is this Stake cast with the full affirmation of all of your House?" Dumbledore inquired in his most formal tones.

"It is fully acceded to by all of us who are of age to cast," Bill assured him. "We know Miss Granger is of age herself, so there can be no barrier to this Stake."

Dumbledore nodded slowly. "True. As you said, there is more than one Stake cast for the young woman and I will present them when I see fit. As her Wizarding guardian, I have claimed that right."

"As you see fit, Professor Dumbledore."

"Then I take this Stake in sacred trust, with the consent of your Covenant." Bill felt a strange, tingling sensation sweep over his skin at the words. He did his best not to twitch. The older wizard continued, saying, "Was there anything else, this evening?"

"No, sir. Thank you for your time, sir."

"You understand that I will be keeping an open mind about which Stake to grant precedence to."

"We understand."

"Good. When the time presents itself, the Stakes shall be presented. Good evening, Mr. Weasley."

"Good evening, Headmaster."

After another, wistful look at the scroll, Bill turned to step back into the fireplace. His brothers were waiting.

They had Hoped for so long, Bill especially. Waiting for their Bespoken One. And then, he'd met her in a fourteen-year-old girl and it had startled him exceedingly. Watching over her in the years since hadn't been too hard—his brothers had been communicative—but with the War happening in earnest, he wanted to make sure that he and his brothers had done their best. There was competition for their witch—the Weasley Covenant was not the only one among the Sacred Twenty-Eight to find her as fitting for their House.

How unusual was that, he wondered? What did that say of the witch in question?

Back in The Burrow, Bill blew out a breath. "Well. That's done, then." His family nodded, their postures tense.

Fred's shoulders shook visibly, but only for a moment. George nudged his twin with one foot and the pair calmed down. After a few moments and some silent affirmations passed around, the Weasley brothers relaxed, flopping on the floor in a haphazard arrangement, as if none of them had the energy or will to move away from their siblings.

Molly cleared her throat. "Well. That went well, yes?"

Arthur snorted. "Bill, I'm proud of you. You managed that so well. All of you, not a twitch. I don't think I was as composed when we cast our Stake for your mum." He rubbed his palms on his thighs. "Right, then. Remember. You have all treated Hermione, I know, with great care and respect. Don't grow too informal with her, but if you see her, some kind conversation—courting conversation—is allowed."

"Flirt with the girl," Molly said with a smile. "But not too much."

Fred laughed and rose to his feet. "Mum, George and I did our best. I think we did all right, yeah?"

Molly smiled and moved to the pictures on the mantle. One of them was of Fred, George, and Hermione at the Yule Ball back in the twins' sixth year. "She certainly looked happy."

Bill took the frame in hand. "Beautiful."

Charlie stole it next. "I miss the wild curls, though. What did she do?"

"Ginny said it was some potion she used on her hair."

"I think she looked ideal," Percy remarked, taking the picture himself for a long study before returning it to its rightful place on the mantle. The image had caught the precise moment when Fred handed Hermione off to George. The skirt of her blue-hued dress was floating, her body swayed gracefully from one brother to the other, and she was clearly laughing at something the grinning twins had said or done. "Perfect."

Arthur clapped Percy on the shoulder with full approval. "You saw her first, Percy. The Covenant spoke truly to you."

Percy blushed at his father's words. "Or perhaps to the twins. They were the ones who brought her to my attention."

"Oi!" George called. "I need a drink! This whole Casting thing has made me thirsty."

They all adjourned to the kitchen, speculating on when Dumbledore would present their Stake to Hermione.

* * *

 _ **A/N: My thanks to all of you for reading and a hat-tip to those who review! A special shout-out to**_ **awhisperintime1** _ **who came in with review #200 on this fic. Thank you!**_


	11. 1 August 1997

_**A/N: Just wanted to thank you so much for the support you're giving this**_ **The Bespoke Witch** _ **AU. :) And if you're here and haven't read**_ **The Bespoke Witch** _ **by glittergrrrl05, go do that! :)**_

* * *

TEN

 ** _The Burrow, 1 August 1997_**

"Mum, where's Ron?" All the Weasley sons had converged on The Burrow to celebrate Harry Potter's coming of age. Even George, one-eared though he was, had risen from his recovery bed to spend time with the man of the hour.

But the time for lightheartedness and congratulations had passed; George was the first one who wanted to lay into Ron.

Molly winced a little. Not only out of the ever-present maternal concern for her son and his serious wound, but also because of her youngest. "He's out back with Harry . . . and Hermione."

George's face went stormy. "If he makes her cry again, I swear I'll—"

"I know." Then, Molly grimaced. "Bring them in or separate them, George. You know they're plotting something!"

George shook off the need to kick his brother's arse and moved close to his mother to embrace her with one arm. "They're always plotting something, Mum. I'll see what I can do."

He left the kitchen and strode quickly outside. It was, aside from the heat, the kind of day that counted as "perfect" in most renditions of the word. Clear sky, birds flying, fragrant flora that he could identify by smell. He had a good nose, sharper than Fred's, which came in handy with their inventing.

The trio was sitting near the bank of the pond, Hermione with her back to the tree. Harry and Ron sat nearby, shaded by the foliage. There wasn't much of a breeze, but at least they were out of the sun. Even though he was out there to grab Ron—both at the wishes of his brothers as well as their mum—he completely appreciated how their Bespoken One looked that day. Sheltered by the tree, she had her hair piled up on her head in a wild way so that curls _sproinged_ out with an appealing lack of dignity. This was in contrast to her serious, determined expression and the taut manner in which she was laying out whatever was on her mind to the two boys. She was wearing a red singlet and pair of blue shorts and George wondered briefly if she had a swimming costume on underneath that. The girl _did_ know how to fill one out.

He and Fred had fantasized about their witch via one of their Patented Daydream Charms. That had been amazing. It had been a unique charm, too. One that allowed for both him and Fred to take their Hermione to a secluded, "clothing optional" beach, and there had been sun and sand and a prodigious amount of snogging. Fantastic, but frustrating.

"Oi, Hermione!" he called, crossing the last patch of grass to get under the tree's welcome shade. "Harry, Ron. You're all looking quite intense for a summer day." Without asking for permission, he sank to the ground between Harry and Hermione. His knee brushed hers and he could feel his magic responding. He couldn't repress his smile. "Mum's worried, you know."

"I know," Ron said slowly, a suspicious light in his eyes as they shifted from George to Hermione. "What does she want?"

"She wants you not to be plotting anything." George wiggled his eyebrows. "I'd rather have her mad at you than at me and Fred!"

Hermione pressed her lips together. "George. We, we have to get ready." Her voice was serious and she didn't roll her eyes.

That got George's attention, because their Bespoken One tended to smile when he was around, taking nearly everything he ever said as a tease. Which was, by and large, fine with him. He loved to see her eyes dance and her cheeks go pink in amusement. But now, she was not amused in the least. "Ready for what, love?"

Anxiety flared in her cinnamon eyes before she looked to Harry, who shook his head in the negative.

Ron made a rude sound. "C'mon, Harry. It's _George_."

"Hermione?" George murmured, gut clenching in sudden worry. "What the hell?"

She reached out to him, clasping one of his hands in her own. "I'm so sorry, George. Really. Dumbledore said we couldn't tell anyone."

He laced his fingers through hers without thinking about it—much—and tried to look like he was all right with not knowing. "Dumbledore knows, then?" All three of them nodded. "Well, you just be safe, yeah? Whatever it is you're plotting?"

Harry bumped one of his knees and George tore his eyes from Hermione's face to look at him. Green eyes blazed behind rounded spectacles. "I'll keep her safe, I swear."

"And I'll keep _you_ safe," Hermione chimed in, her bossier-than-thou tone firmly heard.

"That's my girl," George said, squeezing her hand briefly before letting it go and getting to his feet. "And Ron? None of this gets you out of breaking this up. I'm more afraid of Mum than I am of you. C'mon."

Swearing lightly under his breath, Ron rolled up to his feet and nodded at Harry. "Just make sure to fill me in later, mate, yeah?"

"Yeah."

George couldn't seem to move from Hermione's side, and that was good luck to him because she touched his thigh and he almost moaned. "George?"

"What?" he managed without his voice sounding too odd. He hoped.

She didn't move her hand and he didn't know if he should be thrilled or worried. "Please, don't tell anyone?"

He crouched down—which meant she dropped her hand which meant he didn't have to try hard not to imagine it moving up to his hip or something—and smoothed his palm over her hair. "Tell anyone what, love? I know nothing." He winked at her and she blushed for him.

Ron kicked the grass, bringing up a clod of dirt that hit Hermione on the knee. "Are we going or is Mum going to come out here and yell?"

"Let's go. Bye, Hermione. Harry."

Reminding himself that the rest of their brothers were upstairs waiting, George slung one arm around Ron's shoulders, even though his little brother was a bit taller than he was himself. "We'll go on up to my room. Fred's there, too."

"Who's at the shop?"

"Verity and Lee." Once inside, George called, "Mum? Ron and I are going up to see Fred."

His mother's voice sounded a bit strained when she said, "That's good, dear."

Ron went ahead of him up the stairs, as if he couldn't get away from Mum fast enough. "Hey, I think I hear Charlie up here, too," he mentioned over his shoulder.

"Wonder if he brought me those new dragon hide gloves I asked for," George mused aloud.

Reaching the room, it was obvious no silencing charm had been set up, for he could hear the rest of the Weasley brothers within. He and Fred shared a reasonably sized room, but four men were a crowd and two more entered on top of that.

"Here he is," George said, meeting Bill's eye.

"Wait. What the hell, guys?" Ron's face reddened in clear ire. "I thought we were just getting away from Mum!"

George murmured a quiet _Colloportus_ to seal the door while Charlie flung a whispered _Muffliato_ before coming to lean against the wall next to him. "Took you long enough."

" _She_ was out there," George said by way of excuse. He caught Charlie's bright blue eye. "Hard to tear myself away."

Charlie chuckled and rubbed his hand briefly over his forearm while George did the same on his thigh where Hermione had touched him. It was as if his body could still _feel_ her. "Want a Daydream Charm?" he asked his older brother.

With a snort, Charlie shook his head. "No. I do fine on my own, thanks."

Bill cleared his throat and all the Weasley brothers gave him their attention. "Ron, we are all together for a reason." Around the room, the brothers found seats on Fred and George's beds, save for Charlie, who stayed by the door. If anyone had to wrangle an angry brother, Charlie was the man to do it. Bill continued. "You know we Cast a Stake for Hermione."

Ron huffed. "Aw, not this again! Bill, get over it. It's not like we have to worry about her, right? I mean, who else is going to Cast for her? And you know she's had it bad for me since third year, right?" George wanted to throw something at him.

Percy spoke up, though. "We're not the only House who has found Hermione to be Bespoke, Ron. And our Stake won't be given precedence for her unless we are united."

Bill nodded. "When we Cast, we were, but you're turning eighteen this year and Dumbledore still hasn't presented any Stakes to Hermione, so he might be waiting to see if we are unanimous in our desire for our Bespoke Witch." Ron made as if to stand up, but Bill pushed him back down to Fred's bed. "Ron. What's the matter with you? Why won't you join us?"

Fred shifted to look at Ron more directly. "Can't you feel it? The magic?"

Ron's face twisted in some unnamed emotion. "Look. I only know that I don't have to Cast a Stake yet. I know what the rules are, Fred. Bill. All of you. I can't believe you've just been waiting for her. For Hermione? Really? I mean, _none_ of you have even _been_ with anyone? Why?"

Fred's jaw dropped open. "You mean . . . you _have_?"

George felt betrayed. "Ron. You can't. That's like being unfaithful to her. To all of us, really. To the House of Weasley. We've all pledged to be faithful to our Hope of her. Each one of us." He looked at his brothers one by one to see the confirmation in their eyes. "She's worth it."

"She's _Hermione_. I know her a _lot_ better than any of you and I'm telling you, that even if we aren't all 'faithful to the Hope'," he said with a sneer, "she wouldn't choose anyone else but me. I bet she might even _only_ choose me and make you lot go look elsewhere," he added with a smirk.

Charlie pushed himself off the wall to stand in front of Ron. "She won't get a chance to choose you if you don't Cast with us."

"She won't choose anyone else," Ron asserted, standing to go nose-to-nose with Charlie.

The rest of their brothers got up, too, and surrounded Ron. Crowding him so that he couldn't even move without brushing up against one or more of them. "Look, Ron." Bill's eyes were hard and cold. "We know you three are up to something—you, Harry, and Hermione."

George cleared his throat. "Harry, we trust with her. Can we trust you?"

Percy felt the magic of their Covenant scratching a bit at his awareness. "We have promised to guard her virtue should she accept us, you know. All of us have."

"Except you, Ron." Fred's tone was threatening. "And after hearing you today, I'm worried."

"Give it a rest, guys! It's Hermione!"

"We know!"

"Ron," Bill said, clenching his fist and visibly trying to control his temper. "This might surprise you, but we care about her. We might not be in her year, but we've all taken time to get to know her these last several years. She's a wonderful woman and worthy of all honor. I think I can speak for the rest of us when I say that we love her and won't have you disparaging her."

" _I'm_ the one leaving with her. _I'm_ the one who will be on the run with her. So you bloody well better remember _that_ , Bill."

"On the run!?"

Pandemonium ensued and only George stayed out of it. He had seen Harry's eyes and had to believe—had to _hope_ —that Hermione would be safe with the Boy-Who-Kicked-Riddle's-Arse.

Maybe Ron would come to his senses.

Maybe.

* * *

 _ **A/N: See you Monday!**_


	12. 21 December 1996

_**A/N: Thank you again, everyone, for your support for this story. :) And to all the Guests and others to whom I cannot respond, thank you, too! A special tip of the hat to**_ **jeweledirony003** _ **for bringing in review #300!**_

* * *

ELEVEN

 ** _The Burrow, 21 December 1996_**

"Where's Hermione?" Charlie asked Harry. The Boy-Who-Looked-Stressed had just arrived with Ron from Hogwarts via the Floo as a courtesy from Dumbledore. "Thought she'd be joining us?"

Harry shook his head and tucked his wand away. "She's off to her parents for a few days. Christmas, you know."

Charlie winced; he tended to forget Hermione was Muggle-born. "Of course. And you were at Slughorn's shindig, yeah?"

Harry snorted and exchanged a look with Ron. "Yeah."

"Did you take a date?"

"Luna Lovegood," Harry said. "Hermione went with Cormac MacLaggen."

Ron made a disgusted sound and sat to pull off his boots. "Otherwise known as the Lesser Squid of Gryffindor."

"Oh yeah? Why?"

"The girls say he's got about eight hands and he brags about it constantly in the dorms," Harry explained.

Anger and worry bloomed in Charlie's middle, but he tried to keep a cool façade. "Did Hermione make it through unscathed, then?"

Harry scratched at the back of his neck but met Charlie's eye. "Well, yeah. It wasn't pretty, maybe, but yeah. I wouldn't let him hurt her, Charlie. You know that."

Charlie nodded and fell back in a squishy but comfortable chair. Harry would be a good one to ask, he thought, to chaperone the courtship if Hermione accepted their Stake. They'd make it worth his while, sure, but he had a vested interest in her and—though it might make things occasionally uncomfortable—he'd do his level best by them all. "Right, then. Well. I'm off to find Bill. There are dastardly things to plan for the holiday," he said with a grin.

* * *

 ** _93 Diagon Alley, 23 December 1996_**

It was evening and, after having closed the shop, Fred and George were heating up leftovers in their flat. Bill and Charlie were due in a few minutes.

"What do you think they want to talk about?" George dug the _Playwizard_ magazines from underneath the sofa cushions. He was pretty sure Fred had stuck them there only to get a rise out of Bill because, really, when a man had Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes Patented Daydream Charms, who needed an impersonal magazine? "Bill sounded secretive."

"D'you think it's about Ron?"

"Nah. At least, I hope not."

Fred checked the meat and potatoes in the kitchen and then made sure the flatware was decent. Didn't want their big brothers to tell tales to Mum. "All set. So. Maybe they want to warn us about something? Maybe it's Order business?"

"Maybe? Oi, the Floo!"

Bill and Charlie stumbled into the flat, brushing ash and powder from themselves. "Hard to keep a secret from Mum, you know?" Bill shook his head, untied his hair from its queue to finger-comb it, then retied it. "Thanks for having us over."

Fred bowed. "Welcome to Chez Weasley, Home of the Leftovers."

The men gathered their plates and served themselves before taking their food to the lounge where they could all be seated comfortably. "Don't entertain much, do you?" Charlie joked, sliding off his shoes and lowering himself to sit cross-legged on the floor. He balanced his plate on one knee. "You know, this is something we should think about."

"What, the floor?" Fred levitated his plate while he set a pillow on his lap and got comfortable. "Or are you admiring my levitation skills?"

"I mean a house." Charlie took a sip of his Butterbeer right out of the bottle. "Whenever Dumbledore decides to present our Stake, we need to be able to fulfill any promises, right? About taking care of her."

"What about her family? They'll never understand," George opined from one end of the sofa. "We'd have to be able to show them, too, that we can provide for her."

"That we _deserve_ her," Fred added. "We'll need a home of our own."

Looking pensive, Bill cut into his roast. "A home that will fit all of us plus kids."

"How big was The Burrow when Mum became the House Wife?" Charlie asked. "Did they add on later? And what about, er, bedrooms?"

Fred felt his face get hot and was gratified to see his brothers were all similarly affected. He wasn't a prude, but he had certainly had his fantasies and he didn't know if too many of them included sharing a bedroom with Hermione _and_ up to three other blokes! He coughed and willed his embarrassment away. "Gotta think of kids, yeah?"

"Yes," the others said in unison.

It was quiet as they ate, each of them considering the challenges before them. "We should find our own place, for sure," Charlie said. "But I don't know if I could stay there all the time, you know?"

"I'm sure that if Hermione accepts us, she will accept that, too, Charlie," Bill said. "She knows us and I've never heard her say anything against your job. I don't think there's anything that states all of us have to be in residence all the time. But I can check."

George smiled slyly. "Just make sure you're around for a honeymoon, Charlie!"

Thinking of that, Bill grinned, his face hot all the way to his ears. "Oldest first," he reminded them.

"No fair!" the rest called out, laughing.

"Can you imagine. . .?" Bill asked, forgetting about his food for the moment and pressing the cool Butterbeer bottle to his forehead. "Should we take her someplace special? Or just home? The Weasley Covenant has had up to four husbands at a time, you know. That could mean, er, a lot of, ah . . ." His voice trailed away.

"A lot of lonely nights for us," Charlie said firmly. "I know I'm not the only one to want her to myself for a bit, yeah?" He met Bill's look with a firm glint in his eye. "Didn't think so."

"You're going to have to learn to share, though," Fred reminded them with a playful grin. "George and I learned that one a long time ago. Your turn."

He caught his eldest brother at the perfect moment, for Bill spewed Butterbeer everywhere. "What?" he gasped while George and Fred performed a quick handful of cleaning charms. "What did you say? You've shared?"

Fred and George exchanged a look and adopted very smug expressions. "Oh, yes. George and I, Hermione, a private beach. . ."

"A private, _naked_ beach . . ."

"Hermione in a bikini."

"But only for a moment!"

"Good times, good times."

By the time they had finished winding Bill and Charlie up, all four were ready find a cold lake and jump in it. At first, Bill had appeared to believe that Fred and George had truly broken their promises to guard their Bespoken One's honor, but he caught on after only a few succulent details had been shared. Charlie again refused a Daydream Charm, but George thought that Bill might take them up on one sooner rather than later. The man had, after all, been waiting a long time.

After the dishes had been Banished to the small kitchen, Charlie Summoned a straight-backed chair and twirled it so that he sat on it backward, bracing himself with his forearms on the back of the chair. "What we kind of wanted to do, tonight, Bill and me, was to see if we could come to an arrangement."

Bill stood to lean against the mantle. "In the event that one, Ron Casts with us and two, that Hermione accepts us, we'll have six possible spouses for her."

"We _can_ add, Big Brother," Fred reminded him with a wry twist to his words.

"We run a business, you know."

Bill rolled his eyes. "When Mum accepted the Weasley Stake, she took four husbands. _Four_."

Charlie rubbed his hand along his forearm. "We don't get to tell Hermione which of us to choose, even if we want to. I think she'd have to take at least two of us, though."

"And then what?" George wanted to know. "The rest of us wait . . .? For the Covenant to show us another Bespoke Witch?" He felt his heart clench inside of him. He knew that Hermione would have to choose, but he loved her already. Not loving her, not seeing her as a part of his future, was not something he could think on without getting depressed. Sure, she might choose another House; somehow, that made sense to him and he believed he could, if he had to, face losing her to another House, knowing that that House would also prosper with her and she would be loved and honored. But . . . what if she chose Percy and Bill? They were the obvious ones, right? "What if she—Fred, what if she only chose one of _us_?"

"Told you he'd go spare," Bill muttered to his next youngest brother.

Fred's face was white. "Wait. He's got a point. How do we work this?" No traces of the prankster personae were visible in either twin's expression. Instead, they looked as if one of them had died, rather than just thinking of one of them getting married.

"I'm sure that Hermione would never think of separating you two unless you told her specifically that you wanted that," Bill ventured after a few moments studying the twins.

Charlie jumped in with, "It's an advantage we have over, say, any _other_ House. She knows us. All of us. She wouldn't accept our Stake and then divide you."

"Didn't she accept both of you as dates to the Yule Ball your sixth year?"

At that reminder, George and Fred relaxed visibly, their bodies sinking into their respective seats. Bill exchanged an amused glance with Charlie, who said, "See? No worries."

"What if she wouldn't want to marry us, though?"

George shrugged a little sheepishly. "We haven't pranked _her_ , but you know she got after us plenty once she became a Prefect."

"She and Percy would be perfect for each other," Charlie said with a laugh.

"She and Percy and who, though?"

Fred's question did make the men pause for a bit, so he rose to get more Butterbeer from the kitchen while they pondered. When he came back, he sent the bottles gently to each of his brothers. "Well?"

Charlie shrugged. "It's up to her, isn't it?" He really didn't want to think about that, but he figured he could handle it. "Could be me! Maybe she'd like the idea of having only one of us hanging about all the time, yeah?"

"Hanging about where?" Bill reminded them all that they still didn't know where they'd live. "I don't know about you lot, but I do _not_ want to spend my wedding night at The Burrow."

"Bit of a squeeze, that," Charlie agreed, imagining it. "Not only with the current occupants, but figure some of us won't be chosen, will we? That's something we have to think about."

Bill set his bottle on the mantle. "Charles, how'd did us wanting to talk the twins into a possible agreement turn into a competition?"

The dragon tamer laughed loudly. "William, every day is a competition."

The twins, who had been watching their brothers with amused interest, decided things could not possibly get more odd. "So. You wanted to cut a deal or something?" Fred asked when Charlie had stopped laughing.

"What about Percy? What if Ron doesn't Cast with us?" George pinned Bill with his gaze, as if demanding an answer.

"The git might not, just out of spite, you know," Fred said. "And that'd leave old Perce on his own. Not fair, really."

The brothers all sank into a reflective quietude, fidgeting privately, each of them wondering how the hell they'd manage not to be fiercely jealous if Hermione chose each of his brothers but him. Fred and George did believe their elders on this score; Hermione wouldn't split them up, so they imagined it might be them left out, maybe. Not a pleasant feeling for either one, but they'd survive. Charlie knew his nature would fume if he were not chosen. He'd probably avoid family gatherings if he could until he got that under control, but he wouldn't be able to for long, as the Covenant would prompt them to find another Bespoke Witch. He, with whichever of his brothers was also left out, would have to start all over again. He rubbed at his chest. The idea of it hurt like a dragon claw going after muscles right there on his chest.

"It's not our choice," Bill said after he had reviewed the possibilities in his mind. He could see various pairings, should Hermione choose just two of them. He wondered how they might be grouped if she chose more, but would she? A Muggle-born witch? "It's hers. Speculating, I guess, is pointless." They all nodded slowly and took long pulls at their Butterbeers. "But. We should probably investigate housing."

"Budget to be decided?" Fred quipped.

"Can't fit us all in here," George said with a wave of one arm.

"Romania's got some fine manor homes," Charlie offered with a slanted smile. He never figured his brothers and Hermione would relocate, but he put his two knuts in anyway.

Bill finished his drink. "Budget to be decided. We'll do the best we can, yeah?"

And that, they reckoned, would have to be good enough.

* * *

 _ **A/N: In**_ **The Bespoke Witch** _ **, Ginny mentions that Bill and Charlie met with the twins "a couple Christmases ago" to try to strike up an agreement regarding their Stake. No details beyond that were given (after all, the Malfoy men were in the house!) but I wanted to include that here.**_


	13. 18 December 1995

_**A/N** : I don't normally do this, but to **sweetdreams** : Percy wasn't at the meeting in yesterday's chapter because he wasn't invited, not because he wasn't invested. In TBW, Ginny mentioned just the four that were there, so I stuck to that. :) _

* * *

TWELVE

 ** _Hogwarts, 18 December 1995_**

He pictured her in the library, because she was always in the library and she was comfortable there. Besides, the idea of enticing her into the Restricted section and snogging her senseless against the shelves turned him on in a big, _big_ way. He sank his fingers in her hair and she sighed while hitching her leg up around his hip. "Hermione," he whispered over her skin. "I have to touch you."

"Please, Fred. Right _there_." Her moan made him so hard, he couldn't help but move against her. The friction was intense and she was _so_ into it.

In his dream, he was brilliant at snogging. He knew just how to touch her, and he smoothed his palms under the deceptive uniform blouse she wore to cup her breasts. They fit his hands just right and their peaks hardened against his skin. "Merlin, 'Mione," he breathed in between kisses that rolled her eyes back in her head. "Move, love, just _move_."

She did and he lifted her up so that she fit right against him. She was hot, so _hot_ , right on his erection and when he discovered she wasn't wearing any knickers, he almost came in his trousers.

"Fred!"

Did his name sound so good from any other throat? "Hermione," he murmured in response, loving the way her name felt when he said it next to her skin.

"Fred, come on, wake up." A small, firm hand gripped him but it was not where he needed gripping and he started to protest. Then, "Fred, _please_!"

She sounded frightened! He'd hurt her? How, what had he—

He opened his eyes and there she was, right there. "Fred, oh, Fred. You have to wake up. Professor McGonagall sent me to get you. She wants you in her office."

"Her- Hermione?" Merlin, could she see the tent under the bedding? Drawing up his knees, he tried to focus. Her hair was everywhere, as if she'd just rolled out of bed. She wore her school robes, so she was totally covered, but he couldn't help but wonder what was under them, and—

"Fred? Get George and go to Professor McGonagall's office. I would have sent Harry, but he couldn't— He's with Ron. Go on, get George and meet me in her office, all right? I'll have Ginny."

Ron. Ginny. George. Himself. Fred's heart started pounding in fear and he reached for Hermione just as she was turning away. "Mum? Is it my mum? Did something happen to her?"

"Fred?" George's voice was rough with sleep. "Is that Hermione?"

"Yes!" she said, sounding both worried and exasperated. "Come on, guys, _please_. I'll see you there. Hurry!"

* * *

 ** _Grimmauld Place, 19 December 1995_**

Percy felt rather isolated, though he was at Order Headquarters in London with the rest of the family. Oh, he'd been summoned when their father had been taken to St. Mungo's, but after the tiff he and Dad had when Percy was promoted, he'd felt out of sorts. Relationships with his brothers were strained, and he wasn't sure how to fix that. Should he turn down a promotion? Should he try to force them to see things his way? What if he tried for another department? But what about the future?

Where would he work if not for his boss? He didn't have the head for curse-breaking, like Bill did. Did Gringotts hire humans for regular banking? And Charlie's field was way out there, Percy couldn't look that way for inspiration. The twins at least were their own men. Did he, Percy, have something he could do that would allow him to be independent?

He left the silent study where the others huddled, including Harry Potter and Hermione, and went to make some tea. Maybe he'd make a pot and see if anyone else wanted some. Maybe then they'd talk to him again.

Grimmauld Place's kitchen was morose, depressing, and longer than a Quidditch pitch, he felt as he strode down it, gathering tea things as he went. Still, it was empty and being alone when a man was indeed alone was less lonely than being alone in a room filled with family.

"Percy?"

"Hermione!" He dropped the kettle, but she did something clever with wandless magic and caught it midair, floating it back so that it rested in front of him. "What are you doing here?"

Her cheeks pinked up and he couldn't help but admire her, even through his depression and confusion. She shrugged a little. "Professor McGonagall thought I might be of use, so why don't you let me make the tea. You look knackered." She bustled right over, her arm brushing his, and he felt his pulse jump.

He sat down, marveling when she rested her hand on his shoulder. "Thank you," he murmured.

With a brief squeeze, she turned to prepare the tea, her movements sure in the old kitchen. She had braided her hair, but some wayward curls framed her face, moving when she tilted her head. She was wearing a green jumper and some Muggle jeans and trainers and he didn't think any woman could look better than she did at that moment.

"How do you take your tea, Percy?" She brought a cup to set before him.

"Sit with me a while?" he asked.

Her smile was gentle. "Only if you tell me how you take your tea."

He told her and she added the cream and he stirred while she added sugar to her own cup and stirred. The small sounds of silver on bone china were pleasant, soothing. "You know what happened to Dad?" he asked after several silent moments.

"Not entirely, just that he's at St. Mungo's. You?"

"Not entirely," he answered with half a smile as he repeated her words. "Did you know he and I had a—a fight?"

She frowned but reached out to him, covering one of his hands with her own. Her touch was soothing, but not soft. It was a hand a man could put his heart in, he reckoned. "I heard, yes, but Percy, you know Mr. Weasley loves you. He loves all of you. It hasn't been that long since your, er, disagreement. I'm sure you can patch things over."

"But what about with them?" he wondered, looking up to the ceiling, since his brothers were on the floors above.

"You're brothers, Percy." She waited until he nodded. "I'd give anything to have brothers like yours."

"You know, we rather consider you as one of us," Percy managed to say, feeling both proud and daringly improper as he did so. She didn't know what they were hoping for and it wasn't his place to tell her. Still, he turned his hand over so that he could lightly clasp hers. Such contact was entirely acceptable, even if she were Considering their Stake already, he could do this. He closed his eyes for a moment, feeling the warmth of her hand spread over his whole body, even though they were just, really, holding hands.

Alone. Over tea.

When he opened his eyes, he saw that she was studying their hands where they rested on the wooden table. "Thank you for saying that," she murmured. "You're all very important to me. When I heard about your father, I felt just sick, you know? I can't imagine how terrible you all must feel." She squeezed his hand lightly before rising to her feet. "If there's anything I can do for you while we're waiting, anything at all, let me know, all right? That's why Professor McGonagall sent for me."

He clung to her for another moment and then, he did something vastly out of character. He pressed his lips to the back of her hand. Lightly, but even so. He felt his whole face try to catch fire, but he still found the courage to look in her eyes. He was a Gryffindor, too. "Thank you for coming, Hermione. We— _I_ —appreciate it."

* * *

 _ **A/N: Many thanks to glittergrrrl05, author of The Bespoke Witch, for recommending this little AU to her awesome story. :)**_


	14. 1 July 1998

_**A/N: Thank you for your continued support of this AU! :) Hat tip today to Venetiangrl92 for catching review #400. Thanks so much!**_

 _ **As you may have gathered by now, I find Dumbledore to be manipulative. I believe his intentions are good, but he's more concerned with his idea of the big picture than he is with the individuals within it.**_

* * *

THIRTEEN

 ** _Hogwarts, 1 July 1998_**

"It's been almost two years, Albus," Arthur said, trying his best to appear at his ease in Dumbledore's office. The older wizard had been Headmaster back in Arthur's own school days and sitting in this office had never been one of Arthur's favorite things. "I know that others have, perhaps, been waiting that long or longer, but I was just wondering what your timeframe might be. The Covenants are getting restless."

Albus Dumbledore popped a lemon drop in his mouth and rose to a side cupboard. Arthur didn't remember having seen the cupboard before, but the piece was handsome enough. Teak with ebony inlays in arcane symbols. Runes, perhaps. Ancient Runes weren't his specialty. Bill would know, though.

Albus opened the cabinet door slowly before stepping aside to reveal piles of gleaming, etched scrolls that seemed to be radiating magic. "They are indeed, and I am wondering why, to be quite honest with you, Arthur. I trust you, you know that, right?"

Suspicion immediately reared its head, but Arthur did his best to pretend it hadn't. "I'm glad you can trust me, Albus. I hope that we will always be able to trust one another."

The old man nodded, his eyes narrowed a bit. "In this cabinet are Marriage Stakes. One is even a War Stake. All but two of them have been Cast within the past four weeks."

Surprised, Arthur leaned forward but didn't dare to move nearer to the cabinet itself; he didn't want Albus to think he was spying. "We have many worthy witches at Hogwarts. Are you keeping any in trust for my Ginevra?" It wouldn't have been the usual way, but Albus was known for taking, well, far too much on himself. Arthur wouldn't have been pleased, but he wouldn't have said anything if such had been the case.

It wasn't. "No, old friend, no House has cast a Stake for your daughter. But," he went on with a twinkling smile, "I daresay that she and Harry Potter will do well enough in whatever arrangement they contrive."

Arthur could not have been more pleased and it showed in his smile and the way his chest puffed out in pride. "They will indeed. I support our Harry with everything I have. You know that."

"I do."

Arthur waited. He'd worked in the Ministry for too long not to have cultivated patience along the way. As he waited, he wondered who among the students he might know in Hogwarts would have Albus as a Wizarding guardian. It was certainly wonderful to think of the pure-blood Houses and Covenants who had found Wives among this generation. Optimism hummed through him.

Until Albus cleared his throat. "We do, as you said, have many worthy witches here at Hogwarts, Arthur. But four weeks ago, there were but two Stakes in this cabinet. They were for Miss Granger, er, Potter."

That Hermione and Harry were now officially siblings gladdened Arthur's heart. He had always, in some dark recess of himself, wondered if Harry might choose Hermione over his little Ginevra to be a wife. Ginevra was a wonderful young woman, certainly, but Hermione had been a part of Harry's life since their first year. "Harry and Hermione" sort of rolled off the tongue, too, didn't it? Well, it did even if they were brother and sister.

"These other Stakes," Albus went on after a few moments of utter stillness, "were brought just recently. After we had the Victory Celebration at the end of May. Many representatives of the Sacred Twenty-Eight were present, as you know. Many families who had done what they could for the Light, even though their Houses weren't always inclined that way." Albus stroked his beard and seemed as if he'd reorder the scrolls in the cabinet, but instead, he shut the doors on them. "Once they had met Miss Potter, it seemed that their family Covenants spoke to them."

Arthur tried to say something. "So, those are all for, for _Hermione_?"

"Yes, they are. You seem surprised. I was, too. It's possible that her adoption into the Potter line prompted this."

Arthur blew out a breath and settled heavily into the seat cushion at his back. "This could make things difficult. She can only choose one House." And though Arthur had had confidence that his sons had done well in their subtle pursuit of Hermione—especially if their only competition had been the House of Malfoy—he did not know if Hermione would indeed choose to accept their Stake when presented with so many others. Undoubtedly from worthy Houses all over Britain. He wasn't supposed to ask which Houses were represented in that cabinet, but he could conjecture. With so many Lines affected by the War, it made sense that the family Covenants would be seeking strength to prosper their Houses. Was there a more likely witch than Hermione Potter?

The Headmaster returned to the chair across from Arthur's own and leaned back, crossing his legs and flipping his beard out of the way. "I didn't present the Stakes before the War, old friend, because things were unsettled. Giving Miss Granger, as she was then, one more burden when I knew she'd be risking everything to aid Harry in the defeat of Tom Riddle would have been wrong of me as her guardian." Arthur nodded; the man had a point. Albus's eyes twinkled again. "And after Hermione was seen in public, I started hearing whispers—you know how it is, yes?—and before many days had passed, the Stakes were being entrusted to me."

Worry gnawed uncomfortably at Arthur's middle. "Traditionally, I know, you have to give precedence to one Stake or another, Albus, and present them accordingly. But here, this would take an extremely long time to work through, assuming that Hermione didn't find herself accepting right away."

"True enough, Arthur, which is why I might be a bit, er, _unconventional_ when it comes time to present them to Miss Potter. You can tell your sons that it won't be too long, now."

"They don't know I'm here, Albus. They wouldn't have wished to jeopardize your good opinion."

Albus arched his brow but didn't respond to that. "School will be opening here just after the new year. As you can see, reconstruction has begun, but there will be much to do before we can reopen Hogwarts. I daresay," the Headmaster said while rising to his feet, "that the new year will bring many new opportunities."

Taking the hint, Arthur stood likewise. "So, no worries about precedence and so forth?" Due to all that had gone on with his family, he knew his sons worried.

Albus Dumbledore merely smiled. "I believe the Covenants are seeking out Miss Potter for a reason, Arthur. I trust that she will see that as well."

It was something of a non sequitur, but Arthur was forced to be content with it, as he was ushered with unavoidable politeness right out of the office.

* * *

 _ **A/N: I know, no fun or flirty times! There'll be some of that very soon. I wanted to address the delay and present a peek into the not-too-distant future first, though.**_


	15. 31 December 1996

**_A/N: Surprise! Yes, two chapters in one day. Be amazed. Won't happen again. ;-)_**

 _ **To everyone who has suffered through the backward/forward of the dating scheme to date: It's over. We shall now proceed in a linear chronology. There'll be jumps, but only forward. You're welcome.**_

* * *

FOURTEEN

 ** _The Burrow, 31 December 1996_**

His entire body was on edge, but in the best way.

After the clandestine meeting at the twins' flat in Diagon Alley, Bill's mind had been buzzing. He'd had to dash off to open two private vaults in Scotland for Gringotts, but other than those involving issues, his thoughts had been occupied with Hermione Granger and all the wonderful puzzles—really, they were like glowing runes in his mind—that surrounded her.

He hoped, as he had hoped for years, that he if he remained true to The Hope of the Covenant, he might be able to truly read the Granger Runes and find a way to speak to her that would win her heart. He felt not only a desire for her, now that she was older, but also a responsibility to his brothers and to his House.

The Burrow was warm, with all of them about. Young Ginevra—Bill could still remember his grandmother who had the same name—was haunting after Harry, though she thought she was being subtle. Ron, who continued to be a disappointment, had invited a girl over for New Year's Eve. Even Harry didn't approve, if Bill's reading of his body language was anything to go by. The rest of his family was meandering about, telling stories, eating, and sharing the night with different members of The Order who dropped in.

The only one Bill hadn't seen as he'd prowled about the house was Hermione.

"Charlie?"

"Yeah, Bill?" Charlie put up a hand to Kingsley Shacklebolt and indicated he'd be a moment.

The brothers turned to one another and Bill flipped off a quick _Muffliato_ , which he did to protect the identity of their Bespoken One more than anything else. "Have you seen Hermione tonight?"

"Oh." Charlie looked about the room in an obvious way. "I did earlier, but I lost track. You know we're trying hard not to overwhelm her, yeah?" The dragon tamer still managed to keep his _Nothing Fazes Me_ expression, even though Bill knew that all of them were attuned to Hermione. "She might have gone outside. She did say it was getting warm in here."

Worry spiked in Bill's head. "Alone? She went out alone?"

"Relax, she'll be fine. The witch has a quick wand and she's not going to do anything stupid."

"Unless Harry gets her mind going on something," Bill retorted, irritated. Yes, he liked Harry. He could even see Harry as a future in-law, but Harry Potter claimed Hermione Granger's first loyalty and that was something that he had a hard time handling. "I'm going to find her."

Charlie laughed and clapped him on the back. "You do that. Just don't, er, make her _too_ warm, eh?"

The blatant innuendo had Bill's ears heating a bit before he canceled the muffling spell and, after shaking Shacklebolt's hand, went to find Hermione.

The sky was clear and crisp, starry and brilliant. The moon had only just risen, so its light wasn't pervasive, yet Hermione was still easy to find for all that. She stood, wrapped in a woolen travel cloak that hid all of her clothes but the low-heeled boots she wore. In profile, she looked lovely and at peace and Bill almost hated to interrupt her solitude.

Almost. It was nearing midnight, after all. He might not be allowed to kiss her just yet, but he wanted to start 1997 with her by his side.

"Hey, Hermione," he called softly so as not to startle her.

She jumped a bit anyway, and he could see her wand tucked in her hand and a fold of her cloak. He waited, hands up, until she smiled at him and relaxed. "Oh, hi, Bill. Happy New Year."

He paced the distance between them, closing it slowly, relishing the time to talk to just her with no one else around. He didn't know how his father—who had not been Arthur, though they all called Arthur "Dad"—had shared his wife with other men, but Bill was really hoping he himself would learn to do so gracefully. At this moment, though, he didn't have to share Hermione with _anyone_ and he planned on enjoying that. "Happy New Year," he said when he reached her. Inhaling, he caught the scents of The Burrow about her, as well as a hint of apple cinnamon something. He smiled into her eyes. "Glad you were able to join us tonight."

"I'm happy to have been invited, even if it got a bit overcrowded there." She ducked her head and then looked up at him through a playful tangle of curls. "No offense, of course. I love your family. It's just, just everyone else, you know?"

"I know." His body tightened up again, seeing her hopeful half-smile. He wanted to capture that look in the palm of his hand, to treasure it, to trace her smile with his fingers, to—so much, too much. He contented himself with checking his watch, even though his heart was starting to race. "Only a minute until next year, though," he said, scrambling to connect his words with hers. "Everyone should be leaving soon enough."

Hermione bit her lip and, before he could stop himself, Bill tugged the delicate bit of flesh out from under her teeth. "Don't do that," he whispered. He wanted to nibble on her, right there, and taste those lips and experience the intriguing dance of a kiss but he couldn't. He'd promised. He kept his fingers curled under her chin, though; he couldn't seem to stop wanting to touch her, even in so mild a way. "It'd be a shame to give yourself a bruise this close to next year."

He felt her skin heat under his fingers. "I never thought about it as bruising myself," she murmured, sounding unsteady. "I just do it, sometimes."

"I know. I've seen you."

As if he'd said much more than those simple words, Hermione gasped quietly, her focus suddenly intent upon his face, his mouth. "Ohhh…"

Behind them, there was a sudden shout of raucous celebration. "Happy New Year!" Colorful fireworks, likely courtesy of the twins, burst into the sky, but Bill didn't see them. He saw only their reflected colors in the eyes of their Bespoken One.

She grinned up at him. "Brilliant fireworks, yeah?"

"Yeah."

She nodded, seemed to look a bit nervous, but then, Hermione Granger lunged herself at him, wrapping both arms around him in a quick embrace. "Happy New Year, Bill."

Not one to waste an opportunity when it was tossed in his lap, Bill greedily hugged her back, more tightly than perhaps he should, but only Percy would care and Percy wasn't out there, was he? "Happy New Year, Hermione."

"Oi! Our turn, our turn!" Fred and George came bounding through the winter night like young deer, followed by Percy and Charlie, and Bill had to let Hermione go. She was, though, passed around and hugged quite thoroughly by one and all.

No kissing. Not yet. They were careful. But he imagined—judging by their Bespoke Witch's smiles and pretty confusion—that he and his brothers had done a fine job in letting her know they did not see her as a sister. And that she, hopefully, saw none of them as _brothers_.

* * *

 _ **A/N: Tomorrow: A question several of you have asked will be answered. I think. ;-) See you then...**_


	16. 31 August 1997

**_A/N: If I were titling the different chapters of this story, the title for this one would be "Awkward"._**

* * *

FIFTEEN 

**_Hogwarts, 31 August 1997_**

"What can I do for you, Molly?" Minerva McGonagall offered tea and scones and Molly plucked up the nearest treat to have something to do with her hands. "The children should be here tomorrow."

Frustration roiled in Molly's breast, but she suppressed it. _Not all of them!_ No one knew, yet, and she would keep it that way as long as possible. "I wanted to know what you knew about Marriage Stakes."

Minerva choked on her tea and promptly replaced the cup on her saucer with a loud wobble. "Well, I know enough, I daresay. Why do you ask? You yourself are a House Wife, are you not?"

Molly took a quick breath. "I happen to know of one Muggle-born witch who will likely be presented with more than one Stake. She shouldn't have to face that without knowing what they are. Are there any books she could read?"

Gryffindor's Head of House blinked her green eyes three times without saying anything. Then, "Of course, there are some. I concur, she should be informed." With a thoughtful, far-away look, she mused, "We really should do something about our curriculum here. A mandatory class in pure-blood customs would serve our Muggle-borns well."

"I agree," Molly said. "Would it be possible to acquire books, set them aside, so that a witch might study them in her free time?"

Minerva snorted, actually snorted. "That one? Free time? We've offered her Head Girl position, you know, for this year." Then, the older woman narrowed her eyes, all good humor gone. "By Merlin's beard, she's not coming back, is she? The Trio, I've not heard from them." Minerva made a huffing, annoyed sound. "This is not the time for this. Skiving off school like—er, sorry, Molly."

Reining in her own irritation, Molly took a sip of tea. "I know it isn't. But I can tell you in confidence that they're not skiving off. They're, er, on a mission."

Minerva's posture remained stiff. "Does Albus know?"

"Yes. I tried, Minerva, to keep them from plotting, but—"

A sigh. "I know, dear. I know. All right, then. Well. Pure-blood Marriage Stakes. I will comb the Library for our resources and set them aside in case they are needed, and answer any questions she might have."

"Your support will be invaluable, Minerva. I know this for a _fact_ ," Molly assured her with a glint in her eye.

Minerva appeared suspicious. "How long have you known?"

"I am a House Wife, as you said. And I, er, hear things. A year or two, to answer your question. I'd provide instruction myself, but it could be _awkward_ , all things considered."

"Awkward." Minerva repeated the word with a rakish smile. "Oh, my."

"Quite."

* * *

 ** _Romanian Dragon Reserve, 31 August 1997_**

"About time I hosted one of these things," Charlie said in welcome. Bill, Percy, and the twins all kicked mud off their boots from a recent rain before shucking them entirely upon entering Charlie's modest abode. All of those who worked with the dragons on the Reserve lived economically, but they had a good pub and plenty of fire when it was cold, so who was going to complain?

The setting sun angled sharply through the western window, casting Charlie's face in tawny relief. He took his job as host seriously, passing around a tray with both Butterbeer and Firewhisky. "Pick your poison," he invited.

Percy chose the Butterbeer. "Thank you for having us up, Charlie."

George chose Firewhisky. It was clear he was feeling adventurous. "You were right, Perce. We have to get the details established."

"Dad said that we should choose Binding and Marking Vows. She'll be eighteen next month. We don't want to be unprepared." Fred wasn't drinking, something that made Charlie wonder. A quill and bit of parchment appeared in front of the elder-by-three-minutes twin. "To answer that question on your face, Charlie, I'm designated scribe, tonight."

"I delegated," Bill said, lifting his own Butterbeer in acknowledgment of his brothers. "So. Vows. And rules for our courtship and so on."

The men all settled about Charlie's main living area, getting comfortable in conjured chairs while Charlie opened windows for the evening cross-breeze. "Where should we start?"

"First. Has anyone had any word on where they are?" Bill wanted to know. He knew it was a war, they all bloody knew that, but their Bespoken One had disappeared off the face of the earth and he was _quite_ concerned.

Charlie shook his head. "No word here, Bill, and I can't ask too broadly, you know. Can't have word out that they're not going to be in school, same as always."

"Secrecy is safety, I know."

Fred scowled. "Mum's not happy. Dad's worried. Ginevra's fuming because she didn't get to go and Harry apparently broke up with her."

"What?!"

"Can't be!"

"The git!"

"Stop and think a minute!" Bill rubbed at the scars on his face and thought of Lupin and talks they'd had in private. "Harry's a good lad. We all saw how he's besotted with our sister. He's probably just trying to protect her. You know, Remus Lupin tried to do the same kind of thing with Tonks, but he gave in eventually."

George snorted. "Ginny can be right stubborn. Bets on how long it takes her to bring Harry to heel once this is over?"

Optimism flared amongst the men and they chuckled.

Percy cleared his throat. "We've no word about _them_ in the Ministry, either. But, as you say Bill, secrecy is safety. No news is good news?"

"Yeah. Keep your eyes open. If you hear anything, tell the rest of us," he said, meeting each of his brothers' eyes in turn. They sat in silence for a few moments, and Bill could see they were each processing it all before returning to the true reason they had met. He stretched a bit to indicate he was ready for a change of topic. "So. We have a Ceremony to think about, yeah?"

The others relaxed audibly.

Charlie studied his Butterbeer bottle. "Vows. Those are hard."

"I've, er, got a book." Percy slid a volume from a pocket of his robe and performed an efficient _Engorgio_ on it. "We could use the Vows our House has used before, or make our own."

"What are the House Vows, Perce?" It was eerie, Charlie still sometimes thought, how the twins spoke at the same time. He wondered how that would carry over to the bedroom, should Hermione choose them.

Percy had bookmarked several sections of the text, they all noted. "Well, here. There's a sort of script for the Binding Ceremony. Her guardian—"

"Dumbledore."

"I know that. Her guardian asks, 'How will you keep her?' and we have to answer. There are four different responses."

"What, do we just pick one?"

"No, I think we have to use all four."

Charlie made a _hurry up_ gesture with the hand not holding his Firewhisky. "And? What do we have to do to keep her? What does the book say?"

Fred had his quill in hand. "Don't talk faster than Flitwick, though. I have to keep up."

"Where she'll live, where we will keep her when she is with us, how we will feed her, how we will hold her in honor and respect her, and if she'll be bearing children." The last one Percy only barely managed to get out without squeaking, was Charlie's guess.

"So. Sex?" George blurted before downing the rest of his Firewhisky. He coughed and thumped himself on the chest. "Er, is that in there?"

"Not for this first part, no. Later, though." Percy's face flamed, but he didn't care. In a family comprised of redheads with mostly pale skin, blushing happened. And when discussing marital relations with their Bespoken One, Percy supposed it wasn't shameful.

Fred's ears were red, too. "Later?"

 _Sex_. _Mating_. Charlie slid back in his chair and stretched his legs in front of him. Dragon mating happened and he could talk about it all day. He half-suspected the other dragon tamers did that as a way of sussing out others' ideas about sex and the whole _Will-You, Won't-You_ matter. That never embarrassed him. But sitting in his own house, planning on what words he and his brothers would use to actually promise to get their witch, their Hermione (if indeed she chose to _be_ their Hermione) pregnant got him painfully aroused. He ignored it and hoped the others didn't notice when he lazily crossed his legs.

"How will you keep her?" Percy read. "Come on, let's think of something. We'll have to make notes."

"She will live with us in a house that brings her comfort," Bill said slowly, his eyes on the cold hearth. "I think she'd like that."

"Better make sure we have a library," Fred recommended while he jotted down the notes. The men all laughed with fond hearts.

"We'll have to work on that. Sweeten the pot, yeah?" George suggested. "Make a note, Fred."

Charlie made an impatient sound. "So that's living. What about feeding her. _Feeding_. Like we wouldn't _do_ that?"

Percy grimaced and held up the book. "These traditions are ancient, you know. Centuries ago, men had to promise that their Wife would not be in want. Even in the worst of times."

"We will provide all she needs, body and soul," George said quietly. They all nodded and Fred wrote it down.

"We will hold her in esteem before all others, giving her our very best for the rest of our lives," Charlie said for his part. If the others thought he sounded more formal than was his wont, no one mentioned it.

The room was quiet and, at length, they all stared at Percy. "Your turn, big brother," Fred said with a teasing air. "Sex."

Charlie's laugh was loud and long. "Make it sound nice, too."

"Don't want Charlie to start in." Bill grinned. "He'll make it sound like the Mating Habits of the Chinese Fireball lecture he tried giving to the family when he was sixteen."

Fred gestured rudely with the quill. "Merlin's saggy Y-fronts, do _not_ get him started!"

Percy cleared his throat and stared intently at the book in his hands. "Erm. Not the best visual, Fred, but thanks. So. Right. In this book it says, 'She will be filled with sons by us, and she will birth our champions.' What do you think of that?"

"Too formal," Fred said. "Can we cut it down?"

Percy rubbed at his forehead. He could edit. "We will give her children, our House's pride."

The men were quiet, mulling it over. "Less awkward," Bill decided. "Works for me and Perce won't go up in flames."

Fred's quill was the only sound for a moment. "Noted. Next?"

"Bloody hell," Percy exclaimed, looking a bit ill. His brothers stared at him, wide-eyed. He blushed with shame at his language. "I forgot the Mark! We have to change one of these here and discuss Marking her."

"In the Binding Ceremony?" George wanted to know. He put his glass aside.

"Yeah. It's important."

"Marking her. Mum has a Rune on her, erm, chest," Bill informed them, gesturing at his left pectoral muscle. "I haven't seen it, but Dad told me about it."

"We have to say that we will s- sleep with her and her, uh, b- breast will bear our M-mark," Percy stammered.

"Because _that's_ not awkward at all," Fred remarked, scribbling in the margins of his parchment.

"So just say it like that," Charlie suggested, leaning forward with his elbows on his thighs.

"But the book says it like there's only one bed."

"A House bed," Bill murmured. "Heard about them, too. We don't have one in House Weasley."

"Is that a problem?" George wondered. "That we don't?"

Fred snorted. "Mum had seven kids. I think she did all right without one big bed."

"Hey, you're talking about Mum!" George slapped his twin on the shin. "How about, 'We will share our bed with her and she will bear our Mark.' There. How's that?"

"I like it," Charlie said, pushing himself up to his feet. "And I need another drink if we've got to do more of this. Anyone else?"

None of them mentioned again how often their thoughts wandered to their witch, who was out there alone with only Ron and Harry for protection. They felt impotent, so strove to occupy themselves with something they could make progress on. But still, they worried.

None of them knew when—or if—they would see her again. They could only Hope.


	17. November 1997 and May 1998

**_A/N:_** _This is a chapter in which some questions are answered. My thanks to everyone who is reading and a big wave to everyone who's reviewed! I enjoy interacting with you. Special hat tip today to_ ** _surugasasa,_** _who caught review #500. Thank you!_

 ** _A reminder: This story was written before I began posting._**

* * *

SIXTEEN

 ** _The Burrow, 14 November 1997_**

Bill paced in front of the window. There was a full moon that night and, no matter that he had managed through a few moons already and no matter that Remus Lupin had proven correct in that Bill himself was _not_ a werewolf, Bill couldn't shake the edgy feeling. Remembering that their Bespoken One had been at his bedside to help treat his wounds after that last battle, despite being wounded herself, usually soothed him, but not that night. After all, he had no idea where the hell she was. Desperation coursed through him.

The Covenant was angry and he could feel that, too. More strongly than he had ever felt it in his whole life. Didn't help that he was also brimming with frustration and anger on his own behalf. Or, rather, their Bespoken One's.

They all were.

"I am so disappointed in you, Ronald," their mother was saying behind him. They were in the sitting room with its large hearth and ample seating. Candles lit the room so that they could all see Ron's guilty, pale face. "How could you do that?"

"What? It's not like they needed me or anything. Not with Harry the Wonder Boy and his sidekick, Book Girl."

"Hey!" The protest came from the throats of all the rest of the brothers, but Percy was the one who continued, saying, "She's our Bespoke Witch! Don't speak of her like that."

"You _abandoned_ them. In the _forest_ somewhere," Bill said, almost growling in his disgust. "You abandoned our witch. Ours. You left her in danger in the middle of a war!"

Fred and George had no trace of amusement anywhere. Their brown eyes were cold when they spoke, one at a time, as if it had been rehearsed. "Not to mention—"

"Calling her names."

"Making fun of her."

"How you made her cry for years."

"Prat."

"Arse."

There might have been more to come as each brother stood and surrounded Ron's chair, but a foreign-but-familiar feeling pervaded the room, skirling through the air like a cat on the prowl. It was the family Covenant and it did not portend well. Even without Charlie present, the aura of the magic was tangible.

Molly stood with her hands raised and it seemed to Bill that she had been chosen as the Covenant's voice. "Ronald Weasley, you have been found wanting." Even their mother's voice was different, coming across as diffuse and distant, but still forceful enough to take full possession of the room. "You have betrayed the Line of our House. You have cast aside all manner of aid and have disparaged our guidance. You are no longer seen fit to live among us as one of the Sacred Twenty-Eight. You are no longer of our Line. Of our House. Of our Name. You are Weeded."

A chill enveloped each of the men in the room, making skin clammy and mouths dry with some kind of elemental fear. Ron himself shrank before them—not in stature, but in impact. "Mum? Dad?"

"You are no longer our son," Arthur said. "We were afraid of this, have been for years, but I had so hoped, Ronald. I had so hoped that you would find your way to following the path of our House."

Molly's voice was entirely her own, then. "Go. Pack your things. Begone. You've betrayed the very essence of this family and our Covenant has Weeded you. You will not prosper our House." Tears dripped from her cheeks but she wiped them away with a steely determination.

The twins pressed her from either side. "Let's get you some tea, Mum." Each wrapping an arm about her, they said soft, reassuring things all the way to the kitchen. They didn't try to get their mother to smile, but they did let her know they understood and supported the Weeding.

Percy's eyes were wide as his focus shifted from Ron to his father. Back and forth, back and forth. Weedings were very rare among the Sacred Twenty-Eight. His House might not be wealthy or have a slew of famous personages, but they were numbered among the prospering Houses. Percy took in a long breath and met his dad's eye. "Well. I guess our Stake is unanimous now."

Arthur's eyes were red and wet, but he nodded. "Come. I'll help you pack. You'll need to know what's next."

Percy left the study to join the others in the kitchen. Arthur didn't blame him.

His sixth-born hadn't moved since Molly had pronounced the Weeding and Arthur waved a hand in front of the younger man's face to see if he was awake. "Hello?"

"I'm—I'm what? Weeded? What does that mean?" His voice was small and pitiful.

"It means, as much as it hurts your mum and me, our family magic has decreed you are not able to bear the responsibility of being a Weasley. You're cast out to make your own way in the world. We will give you what we can, but you're on your own once you leave this house."

"It's because of that bloody Stake, isn't it? Did they make you do this, Dad? Did the others make you do this so that their bloody damned Stake would be unanimous? Do they really think Hermione's going to marry any of them?" He was sounding hysterical, his voice creeping up with each question. "She's been after me for years. Years! I'll just go back and get her! Then you'll see. You'll all see!"

Arthur grabbed at Ron's arm with both hands. "No, wait! You can't!"

His youngest son jerked angrily, desperately from him, pulling out his wand in the process. "Watch me." In the next heartbeat, he Disapparated away.

* * *

 ** _Hogwarts, 2 May 1998_**

"Bloody hell, Hermione!" Charlie flew overhead on a Swedish Short-Snout. The dragon had a powerful blue flame and was perfect for this kind of warfare. Angling brilliantly over Hogwarts, Snuffy, as they called him in Romania, terrified most of those Death Eaters brave enough to take to the air. Those who didn't dive away often fell off their brooms in fright to avoid the dragon's flame.

But that didn't mean anything when Hermione dashed off to do battle.

"Come on, Snuffy," the dragon tamer directed. "Let's get her out of that mess."

Green bolts that marked the _Avada Kedavra_ curse shot across the grass. Other colors, too, were met and shielded as the warriors of the Light fought those of the Dark. Harry Potter was _alive_ after all, and nothing was stopping those who sought to take down the Dark Lord and his supporters.

Why would he think Hermione would be any different? She had been with his brothers not long before, surrounded by them and safe. Charlie had dared to think he could get back to defending the castle again, but no . . .! "Crazy woman," he muttered as Snuffy dove on a direct line to get to their witch. Some dark-robed man on a broom aimed his wand at her.

"No! Snuffy! Flame!"

On command, the Swedish Short-Snout drew in a rapid breath and expelled a gout of fire, catching the masked Death Eater so that he tumbled to the earth in a ball of flame.

Hermione saw him fall and she turned, wand at the ready. As if that would stop a dragon! "Charlie?" she shouted as he landed.

"Come on, Hermione! Let me get you out of here!"

"No! I have to—Charlie! Watch out!"

A cloaked Death Eater was running, wand extended as if to cast at man and dragon.

"Snuffy, fly!" A dragon was impervious to many magical attacks, but You-Know-Who had proved that the darkest of Dark Magic was not beyond what he and his followers would use. Charlie and his dragon leapt back to the sky, because a dragon tamer held the trust of dragonkind sacred above everything, even above the witch below whom he adored. It was almost impossible, though; the Death Eater seemed ready to take Hermione, if he couldn't get Charlie. Seeing Percy run toward her helped.

" _Liquefacio!_ " Percy's voice sounded fierce through the rushing air.

Charlie felt every muscle in him try to get back to help his brother. He hovered, just to make sure Percy's curse worked, but then he saw a strange purple light flare from the Death Eater's wand—

"Percy!" Hermione's shriek made Charlie's teeth hurt, even from far away. "No, Percy, no! _Sectumsempra!_ "

Charlie directed Snuffy to go back. He could see the threat had been handled—the Death Eater was bleeding all over the trampled ground—but he could also see his brother lying on the grass with Hermione beside him.

* * *

 ** _Hogwarts, 4 May 1998_**

"Come on, love. Come with me."

"It's all my fault, George," Hermione said, her voice choked and strained. "He was trying to save me."

"And me," Charlie reminded her from just behind. George had the honor of comforting their Bespoken One just then, and Charlie found he didn't begrudge that. His heart was hurting as if gripped in a stone fist. "My fault, too. If I hadn't tried to get you away . . ."

George shot him an angry look over his shoulder as Hermione began sobbing outright.

In the Hospital Wing, the air was quiet, but busy. Madam Pomfrey had patients aplenty. Too many to hold in this room, so most were down in the Great Hall, but in the Infirmary, the patients were in a sad way. Death was claiming them one by one, it seemed, to the sounds of muted cries and hushed promises.

Percy had no more breath to offer promises. His face was composed, even in death. Pomfrey had brought up the sheet and mercifully covered his chest. Their mum had one of his hands in her own, their dad the other. Charlie felt Bill's arm over his shoulders and was grateful for that.

Their Bespoke Witch stood at Percy's feet, a twin on either side. Bill wrapped his free arm around George, who was closest, and they all held a vigil over their middle brother.

"He was so brave. A real hero. He saved my life," Hermione murmured. "Mrs. Weasley, Mr. Weasley, I'm so sorry."

Arthur scrubbed at his red-whiskered face with the back of his hand. "He'd be proud to know you thought well of him, Hermione."

"I shouldn't have—"

Molly stopped Hermione's words with a shake of her head. "None of that, dear. You did the best you could, after. I saw your work. I was here with him. No one could have . . ." She coughed, sniffled, and wiped her eyes. "No one could have done more than you."

"I, I cared a lot about him, you know," Hermione whispered.

Fred and George hugged her tighter, all but squishing her between their bodies. "He cared a lot about you, too," Fred told her.

He met George's shadowed eyes over the little witch's head and nodded. George squeezed her again. "He wasn't the only one, you know."

Hermione's weeping was silent. "Thank you."

* * *

 _ **A/N: So, yeah. I knew that was coming. . . (Runs and hides.)**_


	18. In Memoriam 1998

**_A/N:_** _I know. I don't post Saturdays. Oddly, a couple of days ago, I felt I had missed something when I wrote, something that hit me while I was taking my son to school. So, with my thanks to my dear friend_ ** _Katmom the Magnificent_** _for absorbing my freak-out, I present this to you as a bonus chapter._

* * *

SEVENTEEN

 ** _Hogwarts, 7 May 1998_**

The Muggles had a saying: War is hell.

Arthur had studied many things Muggle with a great deal of fascination over his lifetime. Seeing the wreck and ruin of Hogwarts, on what was otherwise a beautiful Scottish morning in spring, brought the Muggle saying home to him.

"Look at them," Molly said, waving her hand ineffectually toward the clustered redheads near where Percy's body was waiting for this memorial to be over. It had only been days since their boy had been taken from them. Only days since so many—so painfully many—had met their ends in the final battle against Lord Voldemort.

Molly's were not the only tears to fall.

Groups of mourners gathered informally, clutching one another, murmuring memories. Promising to watch over surviving family members.

His own Ginevra was off to the left, her arms around Harry Potter as he stood at the feet of Remus and Nymphadora Lupin. Harry, Arthur recalled, had been named godfather of young Theodore Lupin.

A young boy's still form was surrounded by grieving relatives, too, not far from the Lupins. Arthur watched, heartsore, as an older boy placed a camera on the boy's still chest. A young woman with blond curly hair was covered by a richly embroidered cloak, a crumpled and weeping parent on either side of her.

 _Merlin, how many had died?_ He couldn't bring himself to count them. Seeing the children was hard enough. _Even Severus . . ._ Perhaps he was at peace at last.

But for Arthur and Molly, the main focus of this day was on Percy and their surviving children. With a sigh, he dropped a comforting kiss on his Wife's head and gently urged her to where they mourned.

Bill stood in the center of the group, his hands resting lightly on Hermione Granger's—no, _Potter's_ —shoulders. The dear girl, she never knew. She still didn't know. But Percy loved her, Arthur was sure of that. It had likely been love of that one girl that had helped reconcile him to the family after his nearly disastrous decision at the Ministry a while back. George stood at Bill's right, Charlie at his left, while Fred knelt near Percy's feet with Hermione and George holding on to his shoulders.

They were a tight group, a solid group. A _family_ , Arthur could see. Even through his sorrow, Hope flared. Molly seemed to feel it, too, for she snuggled up against him as they reached the children. Then, standing up more firmly, she hugged each of their children.

"You've all done so well," she said with the strength Arthur had long known she possessed. "We're so proud of you. Of all of you." She took an extra moment with Hermione, nudging Fred out of the way and cupping the girl's chin in her hand. "Percy always thought very highly of you, Hermione dear. I want you to have something of his, to remember him by."

Arthur watched as Hermione darted a distressed glance around at all the others there. "Mrs. Weasley, I—"

"Shh. It's his Head Boy badge, dear. You valued education as highly as he did, possibly even more so. I know he'd want you to have it."

Arthur brushed tears from his own eyes as the women embraced.

* * *

 ** _93 Diagon Alley, 15 June 1998_**

Days passed.

Weeks.

There was a Victory Celebration, and all those who had fought and died for the Light in the Wars were honored, from James and Lily Potter to young Colin Creevey. Wizards and witches gathered to tell speeches, share stories that would become legends and, likely, make their way into the next edition of _Hogwarts, A History_.

George and Fred had gone back to work, but George always kept a close eye on Fred. _He'd almost lost his twin_. But for the misfired spell that sent Fred falling back one way instead of another—

He couldn't think of it, but he had nightmares.

Rubbing at where his left ear used to be, George twirled Percy's wand.

"He saved Hermione with that, you know," Fred said, coming to wrap an arm around George's shoulders. "He was a fair duelist."

George leaned his head against Fred's. "He was. And so's she. It's just . . . It's not fair, you know?"

"I know."

"We's lost one brother already, last year."

"I know."

They stood, staring at Percy's wand. "If Hermione chooses us," George began with a quiet hope in his heart.

"We will. Forge. We'll name our first son after him."

"All right."

* * *

 ** _Ministry of Magic, 5 November 1998_**

Percy had his picture on the Memorial Wall. Bill caught himself chuckling softly at it even as his heart clenched a bit. It had been six months, and he thought he was doing well, but sometimes . . .

Grief could be surprising.

 **Percy Ignatius Weasley**

 **22 August 1976 - 4 May 1998**

Slain by Antonin Dolohov (d.)

in defense of

Hermione Granger Potter

Battle of Hogwarts

Despite the honor of it, Bill could wish that Hermione's name hadn't been mentioned. She would see it every day, if she chose to work here, and that wouldn't be appreciated by her.

But still. Percy would want his name and hers to be connected. Publicly. It would, Bill thought, be only fair. He had recognized her first.

"Weasley! Bill Weasley!" Kingsley Shacklebolt's powerful bass rolled across the stone floor and echoed from the Memorial Wall.

Bill turned to shake the big man's hand. "Minister. Good to see you. I've got the information you wanted."

"Yes, yes. The Muggles have gone digging again in honor of their bonfire day— Ah. Yes." His voice softened as he studied the wall. "So many."

"Yes, Minister."

"It's hard to see, every day. I can only imagine how it would be when it isn't part of your daily life. Sorry, Bill. I would've had you meet me elsewhere."

Bill summoned a smile and shook his head. "It's all right, sir. We're managing and he deserves to be remembered."

* * *

 ** _Romanian Dragon Sanctuary, 19 November 1998_**

"C'mon, Charlie." Dragonhealer Jeannette O'Keefe, from the States, draped a casual arm around Charlie's waist.

He moved a half-step from her. "I've tried, Jean. I have, you know that. But—" Charlie hated to admit to a weakness like this. Hated it, but he also hated the reason he was having such a hard time with this aspect of his job. He tugged sharply at his hair, once. Only once.

Jeannette's voice turned snarky as she fisted her hands on her hips. The only light was the campfire before them, and she looked like an angry pixie. "So you're going to quit the dragons, Charlie? That's not like you."

"Quit? Merlin, no, Jean. You know me better."

"I thought I did! What by Circe's tits happened to you?"

"The War!"

"But, what happened with the dragons?"

Charlie hunkered down, his hands dangerously near the flames of the campfire. "I saw him, Jean. I saw Percy go down and I was up on Snuffy and I didn't save him."

Jean was utterly silent behind him. Which was good, Charlie knew, because he was _that close_ to bawling like a newborn right there. His eyes burned, his chest was tight, but—

"Thanks," he said after a few moments. "I think I needed that."

He heard her boots crunch on the gritty earth. "You did. And you need to fly again, Charlie."

Inhaling deeply, Charles Weasley, dragon tamer, pushed himself to his feet. "I do."

And so he did.

* * *

 _ **A/N: Next up...the day you've all been waiting for. I think. See you Monday!**_


	19. 7 January 1999

**_A/N: You guys blew me away with your readership and reviews over the past two chapters. Thank you so very much. Special hat tip today to BaronessBlood, who caught review #600!_**

 ** _However! I have received a couple of reviews in my inbox that never made it to the reviews in the fic. I don't know why. Hopefully this is just a temporary glitch. I will respond when I can!_**

 ** _Now, take a deep breath. It's time..._**

* * *

EIGHTEEN

 ** _Hogwarts, 7 January 1999_**

"Merlin. What has Dumbledore got planned, anyway?" Charlie tugged the invitation from Bill's hand as they were escorted to a room that he had never seen at his old school. "Does it say here?"

"Sort of?" Bill angled his head, eyes alert to every detail. "Go ahead and read it and share it with the twins."

 _William Weasley_

 _Charles Weasley_

 _Frederick Weasley_

 _George Weasley_

 _This is official notice that your Marriage Stake will be presented to your Bespoke Witch, Hermione Jean Potter, at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry on 7 January 1999. It is your right and privilege to be present when the Stake is presented, so please notify when you will be arriving so that you may be properly allowed past the wards._

 _Best wishes,_

 _Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore_

 _Order of Merlin, First Class_

 _Grand Sorcerer_

 _Supreme Mugwump_

 _Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot_

 _Headmaster, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry_

It wasn't easy, being back at Hogwarts. Percy had died there only last year and Bill could still imagine he saw the gouges in the walls, the bodies lying bloodied or broken in the corridors. It had taken months to rebuild the castle walls, replace the furnishings, reconstruct the protective wards, and also to evaluate staffing and curriculum needs as well as to assess students who would be attending. That Hogwarts opened, even for one term, was amazing.

"Professor?" Bill sped up a bit to walk abreast with the older wizard. "Where are we going for the presentation?"

"Well, you know you are granted the right and privilege to be present, but it is also considerate not to let the lady know you're watching."

Bill nodded. "She'd feel pressured and uncomfortable, of course."

"Of course. So I have contrived a way to take care of matters to see to it that her comfort is assured and your rights are met. Here in this room," he said with a wave at a blank wall.

"I know you've been doing some reconstruction," began Fred.

"But is this what I think it is?" finished George.

A door appeared just after the question and Dumbledore strode through it. "It's a newly recreated Room of Requirement, yes. See, just there we have a cozy parlor for Miss Potter, Professor McGonagall, and me to chat. And over here," Dumbledore went on with a wave of one arm, "we have a private viewing area."

Bill gaped as a purple, rune-spangled curtain parted. Before them was what could only be considered a viewing gallery. With seating as might be found at a Quidditch stadium, though not nearly so extensive, the room was shadowed and there was a magical, curved window to allow viewing into the "cozy parlor" they had just been shown.

The room wasn't empty, either.

"Weasleys?"

The four remaining Weasley brothers halted in their tracks as if by magic. It wasn't, though. It was simply a simultaneously experienced startle. Clustered in and among the seats, in groups of two, three, and four, were men representing many pure-blood families, including some of the Sacred Twenty-Eight.

"Malfoy, Avery, Flint, Travers, Shafiq, Macmillan," Bill murmured, feeling intimidated. "And those are only the ones I recognize off the top. What the hell is this?" he asked his nearest brother in a whisper.

"Some kind of a joke?" Charlie guessed.

Fred and George moved boldly ahead and found a set of four seats with a good view of what would be Hermione's chair below. "Not a funny joke. Not at all."

Lucius and Draco Malfoy approached them, their expressions reserved. Draco and the twins crossed angry glances; Bill watched Lucius.

"William Weasley."

"Lucius Malfoy."

The older man smiled thinly and waved his cane about to indicate the others in the room. "We are rather uniquely situated, Mr. Weasley. It seems that your House and mine both found our witch to be Bespoke long before these others."

"Does your Covenant still find her to be Bespoke for your House?" Bill asked, genuinely curious.

"Her magical signature did indeed change once the Potter boy adopted her as his sister, yes. But that, of course, only means she is no longer considered Muggle-born. It is unsurprising that so many," he dropped his voice and made a face, "find Miss Potter to be Bespoke."

"She is quite the woman," Bill agreed. "Was all of _this_ a surprise to you as well?"

Malfoy looked about the gallery again. "Quite. I had rather it had only been your House, to be honest." His eyes narrowed and Bill thought there might be actual emotion lurking there. "In truth, we are not sure if Miss Potter is quite ready for this step. The War was hard on her."

Charlie stepped forward, bristling with every muscle of his body. "It was hard on all of us. We know she was held captive at your Manor."

Malfoy nodded slowly, his face a sheet of ice. "And we know about the sixth-born of your House abandoning her."

Bill clapped one large hand on Charlie's shoulder to keep his brother from doing something ill-advised. "It was not a good year for any of us. I, too, would have preferred this, er, unconventional presentation be between just our two Houses," he said, trying to get back to the matter at hand.

"Indeed."

Bill was trying to figure out how to exit from this conversation without appearing awkward or weak when the scene below them changed. All the men in the viewing gallery hushed and found seats, perching near the edges of them as Hermione Jean Granger Potter walked into the Room of Requirement.

 _Does she have any idea what's about to happen?_ Bill wondered. Had she had the chance to research and study so as to be ready for today? His mother, he'd been told, had asked Professor McGonagall to assist on that score, but had McGonagall done so? It hadn't been the kind of question he could have asked over Christmas dinner. _So, Hermione, read any books on pure-blood marriage customs recently?_

No. All he could do was hope she was ready that day.

"We are so glad you and Harry were able to come back to finish your formal education," Dumbledore said as the ladies seated themselves. Hermione and Minerva McGonagall settled into velvet chairs with high, plush backs and wooden arms and legs. The chairs were maroon, while Albus Dumbledore evidently preferred a gold and white construction with tassels. There was a small table in front of the three of them, for they were all facing the magic viewing window. A window that hadn't been visible from the "cozy parlor" side of it.

It didn't appear that Hermione was aware of anything particular, however, and Bill tensed in concern for her.

"Yes, Miss Potter," McGonagall said. "Very pleased. Your schedule looks quite manageable and I'm sure you'll be well prepared for your N.E.W.T.s."

"Thank you," Hermione said, her voice clear, steady, and as predictable as the school uniform she wore. "So, why are we here, exactly? Isn't this where the Room of Requirement used to be?"

"It is indeed," Dumbledore said. "And I have something to show you." He stood and crossed beyond Bill's field of view, returning with a scroll held carefully in one hand.

"That's ours," Draco Malfoy whispered in tempered excitement.

Bill could feel the tension that seemed to explode from his brothers. Was it their Covenant? Was it just normal, male tendencies? Charlie might know, but they couldn't discuss it just yet.

"Have you seen one of these before?" Dumbledore inquired in his most guileless tone.

Hermione peered at it, but kept her hands folded in her lap. "No, sir."

"There's an old tradition of casting War Stakes for a bride amongst the pure-blood community," the Headmaster explained, all the while half-extending the scroll as if he weren't aware of what he was doing.

Bill knew _exactly_ what he was doing and he begged Merlin himself not to let Hermione take the bait. Charlie was leaning forward, his throat tense and corded. The twins, behind them, were leaning forward, too. Bill could feel the beat they pounded with their fingers on the back of his seat.

"Is that an old War Stake? What you're holding?"

"Er, no. It's a pretty one, though, isn't it?" He waved it a bit in front of Hermione and the words _No fair_ whispered above all the watching men.

"It is, sir. There seem to be many scrolls over there on that table. Are they all War Stakes?"

"Oh, no, my dear Miss Potter. Some are, some are not. They are all, though, Marriage Stakes made in offer from pure-blood families."

Bill kept his focus entirely on Hermione's expression. She was clearly thinking, putting her remarkable mind to work in rapid order. Bill felt the twins relax behind him and Charlie and he wondered what they knew.

"That's our witch."

"She's got this."

Bill wasn't entirely certain of that, but he continued to watch as Hermione came to a decision. Her smile was the one she wore for the Victory Celebration and about as friendly as a fish on a plate. "I've read about these Stakes. To prepare me for venturing further into the wizarding world, after the War and after Harry made me a Potter, Professor McGonagall loaned me books over the autumn on the varied social customs, including the casting of Marriage Stakes and War Stakes." She frowned. "I confess, Headmaster, that I found it all very medieval."

"But my dear Miss Potter," McGonagall said after a moment, "there is great status in being a House Wife. Few are chosen, to be honest. To be selected as Bespoke for a House is a high honor."

"I'm sure it is, Professor McGonagall. It's just not a custom I'm comfortable with."

Charlie laughed softly and whispered, "You tell 'em, love."

Dumbledore drew back a bit, holding the Malfoy scroll on his lap. "Well, Miss Potter, it appears that your comfort level was not taken into account by the Covenant of at least a few houses."

Hermione lifted her brow and stilled. "Pardon me?"

Rising slowly to his feet, the older wizard left Bill's sight again, but he could still be heard. "On this table are the Stakes I have received on _your_ behalf, Miss Potter."

Hermione's jaw dropped open. "Sir? I counted them while sitting here and there are nineteen. Nineteen scrolls. Surely, Headmaster, they can't all be for me."

"They are, though, Miss Potter. And each House is hoping that you will accept theirs."

Hermione stood and walked slowly toward the hidden area. Her voice remained steady. "How can I know to whom they belong, sir? I understand that I do not have to make a choice immediately, if at all."

 _If at all?_ That was a possibility that Bill hadn't even considered. What if she didn't choose any of them?

"Well, I will show you each one and let you hear the name of the House. You should also take a moment with each scroll, as each is imbued with the Covenant magic of the House. If you find a magic that . . . affects you, it could be an indicator of how compatible you would be with that House."

"All right. And then what should I do, sir?"

Professor McGonagall moved quickly to join them, so the entire situation was ears-only for the men watching. "Miss Potter. Hermione, if I may, you would be best served to agree to Consider one House or more, if you are uncomfortable. You read the books?"

"Of course, Professor."

"Then you know the order of the process."

"I would choose a House—or more than one—to Consider and there would be a courtship time before I made a decision. No one from the Houses can pressure me in that decision. If I decide on a House, I will inform my guardian, Headmaster Dumbledore, and he will arrange for the formal Binding ceremony, which is often followed by the Marking ceremony within days. Two weeks thereafter, or under the next full moon, the marriage is solemnized."

"Sounds like our Hermione. She memorized that chapter and line, she did," George whispered happily.

Draco Malfoy was laughing quietly as well. Bill tensed. How well did the Malfoy scion know Hermione, anyway?

Dumbledore didn't say anything for a few moments and Bill believed he would have paid real Galleons to see the older wizard's face. Eventually, the Headmaster cleared his throat. "Well said, yes. Just what I would expect you to know, Miss Potter. Very good. Let us return to our seats, then, and I will present the Stakes to you."

"May I take notes, sir?"

"Of course." A quill, ink, and parchment appeared on the low table in front of Hermione's chair. "Shall we begin?"

Hermione held up a finger. "Just a moment. Let me get organized." Fred chuckled, as did Charlie. "There. I wanted this to be a clear reference for myself for later."

"Well done, Miss Potter," McGonagall said with apparent affection. "Well done indeed."

"This is the Malfoy Stake," Dumbledore began, extending the Stake he clearly preferred before Hermione. "They cast it shortly after your sixteenth birthday."

"But, but Draco Malfoy would have been too young, per the books I read."

"Not all members have to be of age for a Stake to be cast," Dumbledore countered. "It was quite fair."

Hermione jotted down notes before saying, "It smells quite nice." She pressed her lips together and closed her eyes. "Like old books and the ocean, but without the salty overlay." Opening her eyes, she made more notes. "Thank you. Next?"

Bill leaned forward again, just as his brothers did, expecting their Stake to be next, since they had been the next to cast for her. Instead, they saw Dumbledore pick up a different scroll and say, "This is from House Avery, who cast three weeks ago. Have you met the men of that House, Miss Potter?"

After hearing all the names and taking a whiff of the scroll, Hermione made no comment, but said, "Next?"

And so it went for almost an hour. It took a bit longer because, after three scrolls, Hermione held up one hand. "Pardon me, Headmaster, Professor McGonagall, but might I ask for some freshly ground coffee?"

"Are you thirsty, Miss Potter?" Dumbledore asked.

"Oh, no, sir. But I read that the human nose has difficulty distinguishing scents after being exposed to more than three different ones and that smelling freshly ground coffee beans helps to clear the scent receptors. Many Muggle department stores keep coffee grounds behind the counter for this reason."

Dumbledore stroked his beard. "Interesting, Miss Potter. Of course we can provide you with what you wish. Micki!"

A house-elf cracked into the room, wearing a tea towel with the Hogwarts crest. "The Headmaster calls for Micki?"

Hermione conveyed her request and the freshly ground coffee was brought up in less than a minute. "Micki is pleased to serve Missy Potter!"

Looking a bit taken aback, Hermione sniffed at the coffee and smiled blissfully. "Ah, thank you, Headmaster. I'm ready to continue."

And so they did, with Hermione stopping after every third scroll to smell the coffee. This action both amused and irritated the men in the gallery. Impatience alternated with fond laughter and Bill wondered how long the different men had known the witch below them. And would it even matter?

"Do any of us have a scroll that smells like coffee, I wonder," Charlie murmured during a break. "Seems to be her favorite scent so far."

Bill cracked a smile at that. He had given up waiting for their Stake to be next. He had figured out that Dumbledore, for some reason known only to himself, had decided to present their Stake last. Maybe it was because it was cast without all of the brothers being in agreement? Maybe because their House was now deemed less fortunate due to the tragedies of the past year? Bill didn't know, but he had decided to trust to their Hope. Their Bespoken One knew and liked them all and maybe even _more_ than liked them all, if her reaction to poor Percy's death had been anything to go by. She might not want to marry all four of them—she wasn't a masochist—but she did care for them and she had hugged _him_ of her own free will once and that was perhaps more than any of the other Houses could claim. Besides, he had survived a werewolf attack. That had to be good luck, didn't it?

"Whose is that last Stake, Professor Dumbledore?" Hermione's question sounded a bit tired, but she took a non-scheduled whiff of her coffee and that seemed to perk her up.

Dumbledore Summoned the scroll to himself and held it out in front of Hermione. "This is from House Weasley, Miss Potter. I believe you are acquainted with them?"

Bill held his breath and Charlie gripped his forearm.

"I am, yes." Hermione's smile was bittersweet. "The War was hard on them, too. Do you know what happened to Ron, Headmaster? He didn't come to school this term and I wondered if he was going to."

There was a general hissing sound as if the gallery were filled with snakes. Bill kept his spine straight and wondered how he would answer their witch. Professor McGonagall spoke below.

"I haven't heard from him, Hermione," the older witch said with some compassion. "Perhaps we can discuss him later."

"But, but the Stake?"

"Was not cast unanimously. Not at the time of its casting, at any rate. It is now considered to be unanimous."

"So all of them, all the Weasley brothers, wish to marry me?"

Bill could feel all the eyes of all the Houses present swivel to focus on him and his brothers. He was unsure how to respond. Did Hermione find favor with their Stake or not?

"I'm sure they do," Professor McGonagall said, leaning in a bit and smiling at the younger witch. "So. Are there any Houses you would take under consideration?"

Hermione jumped a bit in her chair. "I have to decide _now_?"

"Only decide which houses you would _consider_ , Miss Potter," Dumbledore advised. "So that I may inform them that they have found favor with you, at least for now."

"And when they are informed?"

Minerva McGonagall smiled a smile Bill could not ever remember seeing on the Head of House's face before. It was what he imagined a woman might smile like at, at a hen party or some such. Or like Ginny smiled when gossiping about boys at school. "Well then, Hermione, they will have the great opportunity to woo you—within strict guidelines!—until you make up your mind!"

"But I get free choice, no matter what?"

"Until you take a Stake from my hand, you do," the Headmaster said. "Then, once you take a Stake in your hands, you are magically and legally obligated to follow through."

Hermione's pretty mouth made a silent _O_. "Well, then. I had best choose carefully. Between this Consideration business and revising for N.E.W.T.s, it should be a busy term."

* * *

 _ **A/N: Yes, I broke it here. Tomorrow, Hermione makes her choice!**_

 _ **Note, there will be a total of twenty-eight chapters posted by the time this is over. Clearly, we're not done yet...**_


	20. 7 January, Continued

_**A/N: I know. Evil of me to have left you where I did. Daily posting, remember? :) I do not feel** **guilty.**_

* * *

NINETEEN

 ** _Hogwarts, 7 January 1999_**

Hermione picked up her parchment and quill, frowning and cocking her head, looking for all the world as if she were indeed revising for her N.E.W.T.s. down there in the "cozy study" section of the Room of Requirement. She hadn't looked their way, so Bill could only imagine she didn't know about the magic viewing wall.

Seeing her engaged in such a typical manner, he felt as if he'd been freed from a _Petrificus Totalus_. Turning, he met the eyes of each of his brothers. "Well. Let us Hope in our Covenant."

There was a general level of low noise in the gallery. "Do you think she knows we're here?" Fred asked.

"She doesn't have to know, but she might. I don't know what her resources would have said." Bill shrugged. "I wonder if she'll choose us."

"She is only thinking Consideration at this point," Charlie reminded them. "So, it could be a while."

"Well, it makes sense. You know our witch," George said, leaning back with a casual sort of smile. "Her studies have always got top priority."

"After Harry," Fred added.

"After Harry," they all chorused. Then, they settled in to wait, just as all the other men did.

"What will we do if she doesn't choose us?" Bill asked his brothers after a quiet quarter of an hour. He and Charlie stood, so Fred and George did as well, and they were able to stretch a bit while they talked.

"I guess, I guess we just do what we'd normally do?" Fred mused. "Work, maybe travel a bit, since we're not in school. To meet people."

"And we keep hoping," George reminded them with a level look. "I love that girl down there, but I can keep hoping, I think, if she doesn't choose us."

* * *

"Okay. I think I've made a decision," Hermione said at length. "Do I tell you or should I write it down?"

Professor McGonagall eyed Hermione's parchment with a faint smile but she said nothing. The Headmaster eyed the pile of scrolls and stroked his beard. "You can tell us, Miss Potter."

"I still think this is quite medieval and can't really believe I'm proceeding with this. I'm just afraid if I don't that the ramifications might be more than I feel I can handle just now."

McGonagall touched her arm lightly. "Remember, Hermione, this is just to Consider these Houses. Like dating them, in a way, except there will be no time without a chaperone and there is no, er, physical contact."

"It's not like I've kissed anyone anyway. Who's had time?"

There was a lightening of spirits in the gallery. All of the Houses were glad to know their Bespoken One was pure.

Still on his feet, Bill studied Hermione as if he could discern her decision. When she smiled with a shy blush, he felt himself smile, too.

"I wish to Consider House Weasley," she declared with an uplifted chin, as if daring the Headmaster to deny her. "If I have to participate in this, I would like it to be with men I've known for years, who have already shown me they care about me and my welfare. I feel . . . safe with them. I don't know which of them I would consider marrying," she added immediately, "but I guess that is what this time is for, right?"

"Right," the Weasley brothers said in unison.

Over the seats that divided them, the brothers embraced quickly, relief and happiness alight in all their eyes, blue and brown. It wasn't a promise, but it was enough to hope with.

Not everyone had such a hope to cling to, after all. Many pairs of eyes bored into Bill's own as disappointed men left the the viewing gallery. But only two pairs looked as devastated as Bill knew he would have felt if Hermione's choice had gone another way. "Malfoy."

"Weasley." Silvery gray eyes met his and Bill almost flinched from the flash of unguarded pain he saw in them. Then, the cool mask of a Slytherin slipped over Lucius Malfoy's face. "It seems circumstances were in your favor today."

Feeling a sudden surge from his brothers as they gathered behind him, Bill held up a hand. "I believe you're right. We've always hoped it would be so."

The younger Malfoy was slower at finding his own mask; his face was etched in loss. "Hope is not always enough, is it?"

Thinking of Percy, Bill held the younger man's gaze. "No, it isn't. Sometimes—sometimes more seems to be required."

Lucius Malfoy made a quick gesture with his cane. "Come, Draco."

As one, the Weasleys followed the Malfoys' progress out of the gallery, each of them thankful not to be the men who had to stoke their Hope anew, that day.

* * *

Time seemed to dash by him in a blaze of wonder before Fred found himself in Dumbledore's office. It wasn't as if he hadn't spent time there. In fact, he couldn't even tell if there had been any significant damage to the room, for it looked precisely as it had the last time he'd seen it, years ago.

Save that today, Hermione was with him in the flesh. That she was neither smiling at him nor touching him did not in the least dampen his joy in seeing her, knowing that she had chosen their House to Consider.

She wasn't acting as joyful, however. Rather, her expression was cautious.

"So you haven't seen Ron, either? He didn't, didn't Cast for me?"

Fred held his breath, but decided to answer, as Dumbledore seemed unwilling to do so. "He didn't. And we haven't seen him since he left you and Harry last year."

She bit her lip before lacing her fingers together. "So _not_ all of you want to marry me."

Fred didn't know what to say, exactly. He worried about making it worse. So did George. They looked to Bill and Charlie to fix it. After all, what were big brothers for? Charlie, though, seemed as lost as they were, so he stared at Bill, too.

Big Brother came to the rescue. "No, all of _us_ do, Hermione. Absolutely. We've Hoped for nothing else for years."

"Just not Ron." Hermione nodded, tossing her head a bit and crossing the office as if faced with a task the size of the Triwizard Tournament once again. "I didn't think he would be part of this Stake, once I heard that you Cast it. He couldn't have left us in the forest if he wanted to marry me, could he?" Her voice was cool and steady, but Fred heard her tension; he'd seen her like this before. "Something happened, then, didn't it? Because Professor Dumbledore said the Stake was unanimous, now. Has Ron, has Ron . . . died?" And as composed as she tried to be, she met each of their eyes with a sort of desperation.

Bill made haste to dispel that worry. "No. It's just that he was Weeded, Hermione. He's . . . he was not deemed acceptable to the Covenant of our family, so he was sent away."

"The Covenant. The magical identity of House Weasley."

"Yes."

"What will happen to him? Will he be cast out of wizarding society?"

"He won't be cast out of our society; he just has to make a new name for himself, one that _isn't_ Ronald Bilius Weasley. Okay? He can work, he can marry, he can have children. Just not as a Weasley. Our Covenant won't allow that to be, anymore."

It was very quiet, and Fred felt as if they were all standing on the edge of a cliff, waiting. _What if this changes everything?_ Looks to Bill couldn't make their big brother say anything and Dumbledore was still sitting behind his cluttered desk with a resigned air.

Fred couldn't take it anymore. "Does this mean you don't want to take us under Consideration?" He tried not to let his own fear about this show on his face, but he couldn't look at George or any of them, either. He felt as if he were in a body bind, every limb frozen in apprehension as he waited for her answer.

Their Bespoken One's eyes grew wide and she shook her head. Fred felt as if his heart were about to crack, right there, but then, she smiled. A special smile. The smile she had offered him and George when she agreed to go to the Yule Ball with them.

"Of course I accept you for Consideration," she assured them, meeting each of their eyes with her own. Her tension appeared to dissipate and she stepped closer to all of them. "I care for all of you. And you," she went on with a warmer smile and an air about her that made Fred vastly more comfortable, "you care about me." She extended her hand to Bill, who took it, face alight. "Thank your mum for me, okay? For speaking to Professor McGonagall about the books? It could have been so much more uncomfortable earlier if I hadn't known what was happening beforehand."

Bill held her hand in both of his, but they all knew that that was the very limit of what was allowed to them for this time. "I will." He looked around at his brothers and Fred made sure to smile his gratitude to Bill for navigating that one. Bill smiled back. "So. We have to talk about what comes next." Still holding her hand, Bill led her to one of the leather chairs in Dumbledore's office, in front of the older wizard's desk. Fawkes, behind the Headmaster on his customary perch, rose up and stretched his body so that the feathers stood out, and made a most appealing sound. "Thank you, Fawkes," Bill said.

"Yes, thank you," Dumbledore echoed.

"You are our Bespoken One." Bill's voice was softer than Fred expected. They all sat in any way they could to keep an eye on Hermione, but Bill's chair was adjacent to hers and he had the best view. "We've all been concerned that you would be fully informed before today, so that you wouldn't feel confused."

Charlie's smile was warm, too, when he spoke. "Thank you for what you said, in there. We're proud that you feel safe with us. We'd never want you to feel threatened."

"Or rushed," Fred inserted. He tried to smile reassuringly at their little witch. Even in her school uniform with her hair wild about her head, she was so pretty. "We know that it must seem plenty odd to you, but we'll do our best to make it easy."

George grinned. "We can answer questions and everything, now."

"Like what's _next_?" Hermione asked, her tone a bit sharper. "That's just my first one."

"Next," the Headmaster said, finally joining the conversation, "is to share the rules of the Consideration Period with you. And we will introduce you to your chaperones, who are charged with making sure you are not compromised in any way."

"Chaperones," Hermione huffed. "Honestly. Fine. Okay. Who is stuck with _that_ job?"

Dumbledore cocked his head a bit to one side. "Well, I am, for one." Hermione blushed and looked uncomfortable. "And so is Professor McGonagall. But you'll probably be spending a lot of time with a chaperone with whom you are very familiar. I sent for him already." He waved a hand at the office door, which opened slowly. Fred wondered whom Dumbledore had chosen, because it certainly seemed that, so far, the Headmaster had not favored their pursuit of Hermione.

"Harry!" With a delighted smile that would have made Fred all kinds of jealous if Harry wasn't her bonded brother, Hermione leapt from her chair to embrace the Hero of the Wizarding World. "You're my chaperone for this? Really?"

"Yeah, 'Mione, I really am." He looked over her shoulder and caught Fred's eye. "Didn't know I'd be watching over _you_ lot, though."

Fred laughed. "We didn't know you'd be adopting our Bespoken One as your sister, either."

"The chaperone," Dumbledore began after waving Harry to a newly conjured chair next to Hermione, "has a necessary role to fill throughout this process. From now until your wedding day—as long as you are in a Consideration or courtship process, Miss Potter—you will need to have a chaperone with you at all times that you are out and about to make sure that you are not compromised or threatened in any way. You are not to be alone with any other male aside from your brother or myself—and that includes the Weasley brothers, whether alone or in a group." Fred had to chuckle at that.

"I've been alone with them before," Hermione protested, her whole aspect one of righteous indignation. "They have never even considered compromising me, I'm sure."

Fred felt his face redden and the complexions of each of his brothers did likewise. Harry saw this too and he had the nerve to laugh out loud.

His tone was quiet, though, when he said, "'Mione? Just a guess? They've _considered_ plenty. They're just good men and haven't _acted_ on it."

 _Thank you, Harry Potter, for that character endorsement_ , Fred thought as Hermione's blush exploded under her skin.

He did his best not to laugh.

"If I may continue?" Dumbledore cleared his throat. "There may be no physical contact aside from holding hands, and no gifts may be given to the Bespoke Witch during this time, unless it's for an occasion upon which gifts are normally given, such as Valentine's Day or her birthday." Even Harry looked a bit confused, but Fred reckoned they'd figure that out later. "Letters may be exchanged and, as the Weasley men are no longer students at Hogwarts, they may arrange for visits with you. Supervised visits, of course."

"Anything else?" Hermione asked, looking quite put out. Fred hoped that she wouldn't decide not to accept them based upon these very temporary rules. She was rather stubborn.

"Yes. You are not obligated in any way to _hurry through_ this process, Miss Potter." Dumbledore sounded almost grandfatherly. Certainly his eyes were kind as they regarded their witch. "I know your young men have been waiting for quite some time, but you are the one who makes the choices at this juncture."

Harry grinned and took Hermione's hand for a moment. "Yeah. They might whine or something, but you just tell me and I'll handle it." He winked at her and they nodded simultaneously.

"Are there any questions?" Dumbledore wanted to know.

Harry lifted his chin. "Er, yes, Headmaster. While I'm acting as chaperone, may I have my girlfriends with me?"

"Of course, of course, Harry. As you wish. I'm sure your sister won't mind in the least having more girls about."

Fred frowned. "Wait a minute. Girlfriends?"

"As in _plural_?" Charlie's eyes were wide.

"What about our sister?" George demanded.

Bill even took a step forward. "What about Ginevra?"

Fred was on his feet, as indignant as anyone, until Hermione stood in front of Harry as if she'd defend him. "Leave him alone. Ginny is perfectly happy—trust me. I asked, all right? Luna balances them and they're all _three_ happy." She rolled her eyes. "Really, _really_ happy."

Harry scraped his hand through his hair, which brought no improvement whatsoever. "Can we talk about this privately, guys? We're supposed to be here for _your_ relationship, not mine."

It was Charlie who spoke next. "I trust Gin. She knows what she's doing."

"Ew," Fred said, collapsing into his chair. "I did not want to know that, Charlie."

Hermione eyed him coolly. "Don't you trust Harry? You trust him with me, right?"

Bill took a loud breath and held out his hands as if to placate a spitting kneazle. "It'll just take some getting used to, love. Like getting to talk to you without having to hide that we want you for our House Wife."

That worked. Fred privately gave Bill points. Hermione relaxed her stance and blew a curl from between her eyes. "All right. Point made, Bill."

"That's the last thing," the Headmaster said. "In order to help maintain decorum, Miss Potter, it is traditional for the parties involved in a Consideration to address one another in a more formal manner, at least to begin with. And you should address all other males by their surname."

"Even Harry?" She looked aghast.

"He's your brother, of course not. Family is family."

"He's my only family," she whispered. Her eyes darkened in obvious anguish and Fred wanted to hex the Headmaster for being insensitive.

Fred caught George's eye, knowing that his twin—as well as the rest of them—wanted nothing more than to catch their witch up into their arms and hug her until the pain went away. They weren't allowed to, though. Not anymore.

So they watched Harry take care of their Bespoken One for them.

It wouldn't be the first or last time.

* * *

 _ **A/N: For the record, I wrote this story before I knew that glittergrrrl05 had written a one-shot about the Harry/Ginny/Luna triad. In the one-shot, the timing for that triadic relationship is very different than I've got it in this story. I apologize. The story is**_ **Merry Harry and his Witches and can be found on her blog.**


	21. 11 January 1999

_**A/N: Regarding Dumbledore and his motivations:** I did my best to use the Dumbledore presented by glittergrrrl05 in _**The Bespoke Witch**. _We don't get his real reasons for doing what he's doing, there. Only that he HAS reasons. So, I really can't say why he's doing what he's doing. In my head? He preferred the Malfoys above all other Houses because he owed them for what they did in the War (per the TBW AU). So he endeavored to skew the presentation in their favor. This is just politics, which for centuries directed romances at the highest levels of society. I don't have to like it, but I get it._

 _Tally on how many times y'all felt sorry for the Malfoys in the last chapter: ||||| ||||| |_

 _Back to the story. Some of you were asking about the Weeded One...?_

* * *

TWENTY

 ** _93 Diagon Alley, 11 January 1999_**

The attitudinal owl flew right through the open door of Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes just before sunset. It angled its flight path over shelves, around a few customers who were cooing over the Pygmy Puffs, before finally landing on the back counter to peck its beak against a box of something that rattled.

George poked his head out of the back room. "Oi, Mouse!" He recognized Harry's owl. "What brings you here, girl? You know, come to think of it, we should get Hermione an owl so she can write to us without having to go out to the owlery. Yes, we should. So, Mouse old girl. What do you have here?" While he'd been talking, George had deftly detached the parchment from the owl's leg, set it down, and offered her some very boring and non-practical-joking owl treats that he kept in a bowl.

 _Fred & George—_

 _Hate to bother you, but we've got a problem up here at school. Our erstwhile best friend decided to show up and he's causing trouble. My sister is quite upset. I would have owled Bill but he told me he'd be in Spain for the week, neck-deep in an ancient vault._

 _Hermione wouldn't let me owl your parents; I don't know why. She might be angry with them? She won't talk about it with me._

 _Might one of you come up? Maybe through the Headmaster's Floo? He is hesitant to act in a family matter, he said._

 _Thanks!_

 _Harry_

"Fred!" George did a quick check on the store. They weren't as busy as they had been the week before, so he figured Fred might be okay to handle things until closing, which would be in about an hour. He caressed the owl over her head and down her soft chest.

Fred's red head popped up over aisle thirteen. "Yeah?"

"C'mere." After explaining the situation and showing Fred the letter, George said, "I'm gonna go. I feel like I should. Someone from the family should, should be there for this."

Fred nodded slowly. "Go on. Maybe see if you can meet with McGonagall while you do? She might have more insight than The-Boy-Who-Has-Two-Girlfriends." That still rankled, the twins acknowledged with a look.

"I'll Floo when I know what's going on. I am thinking we need Dad up there, but I get why Harry doesn't want to get Hermione mad."

Fred shared a smile with him. "We like her when she's feisty, after all."

"That we do, Twin o'Mine. That we do."

* * *

 ** _Hogwarts, 11 January 1999_**

"I do apologize about this circumstance," Professor Dumbledore said immediately as George emerged from the Floo in the Headmaster's office. "And I will, of course, grant you time to visit with Miss Potter as you're here. But let's first take care of my guest." With the wave of an arm, Dumbledore indicated Ron's motionless body on a sofa.

George's heart went out to Ron, but he was also extremely unhappy. "Why is he petrified?" Ron's face flushed and his eyes blinked madly. George planted his feet and kept his hands free, just in case.

Dumbledore sighed and stroked his beard. "Weeded scions are registered with the Ministry, did you know this? And, since Ronald Weasley was scheduled to be a student here this term, the Ministry notified me that he might not be in attendance any longer and I didn't expect him to be here. However, I sense that there's something not right with him so I want him to be seen by Madam Pomfrey, and, of course, he tried to abscond with Miss Potter."

"What?!" His wand out, George took a step toward his Weeded sibling. "What the bloody hell?"

Dumbledore stopped him by the simple expedient of touching his shoulder. "She was with Mr. Potter at the time, Mr. Weasley, and I assure you that he was entirely efficient at stopping the intruder and getting Miss Potter to safety. It was, er, disruptive, but not dangerous. Though, it is safe to say that Advanced Arithmancy hasn't seen that much spellwork in quite some time."

"Where's Hermione? Er, Miss Potter?"

"I imagine in the Gryffindor Common Room or the Library. Let's get my guest to the Hospital Wing and then I'll let you look for her." His tone made it very clear that the Headmaster was indeed the gatekeeper, and not just to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, but also to Miss Hermione Jean Potter.

George had no choice but to comply.

* * *

She was a sight for sore eyes, that was for sure. Books spread out before her on a wide table in the Library, Hermione managed to look both studious and entirely desirable with her hair tamed a bit and falling over her shoulder, and her uniform sweater fitting, er, rather _tighter_ than he was used to seeing. George remembered a Patented Daydream Charm that included a bookshelf and his favorite bookworm, but he pushed the memory of _that_ delightful bit of pretend away. _Maybe someday, someday soon, I'll get to live it out in person. I wonder if Hermione'd like to snog in the stacks or if she'd think we were desecrating the Library?_

Harry was sitting next to her, Ginny on the table in front of him, which reassured George somewhat until he saw what was happening. Harry had his hands up Ginevra's uniform blouse and was— _Ugh! I need to wash my eyes!_ —while he was also moving in a slight, suggestive motion, eyes half-lidded behind his glasses, mouth open to take in deep breaths. As he drew near, George saw the top of a very blond head of hair and he remembered that Harry was seeing both Ginny _and_ Luna Lovegood. And _Luna_ had blond hair. _And_ Luna was apparently giving Harry a blow-job. In the Library.

A blow-job was happening right next to Hermione.

 _I cannot think of Hermione and oral sex in the same sentence. I will lose it. Completely. Not when she's right in front of me and—_

George was relieved he was still wearing his magenta work robes with the WWW logo on them.

He almost called Hermione's name when he remembered The Rules. He had them in capital letters in his head. "Miss Potter. Mr. Potter." Then, he did his best not to make a face and added, "Ginevra. Miss Lovegood."

"Geo- Mr. Weasley!" Hermione's face lit up with her smile and George felt loads better. He stood across the table from her, so he didn't have to see his sister's face just yet.

"George!" Ginny jumped on the table just as Harry closed his eyes and grit his teeth as he obviously sought to contain an orgasm. Ginny leaned forward to kiss Harry before lifting her leg high and over his head so that she could hop off the table and straighten her uniform.

"Oi, Gin. In public? Really? I could have gone my entire life without seeing that."

"Oh, George," Luna's voice, sounding a bit thick, piped up from Harry's lap while Hermione looked on in wry amusement. "This wasn't so bad. If you'd been here at lunch, Ginny was—"

"Luna-dove. Enough," Harry said, drawing the blonde up and kissing her while she sat on his lap. "George. Thanks for coming." He managed to look like a serious chaperone and entirely besotted with Luna at the same time.

"Fred's still at the shop. Dumbledore said there was a problem?"

Hermione let out an exasperated sound and threw down her quill. "Not anymore, no. Only—" She grimaced and looked at him but George couldn't discern what question was pressing so urgently and she hadn't asked it yet.

He stepped around the table, entirely focused on his witch's expression. He took her hand—he was allowed!—and sat next to her. "First. Are you all right? I heard that there was a _problem_ in Arithmancy."

Hermione blushed and dropped her gaze to their hands. She grabbed his other one so that their hands were entirely entwined. George felt something tight in his chest; something sweet but needful gripped him hard before letting go so he could relax at the touch of his Bespoken One. "I don't understand. He showed up and said he was going to marry me and make you take him back?"

"It won't happen." George gently jostled her hands until she looked up at him. "I promise you. You're safe."

Harry was no longer listening in, George noted, but he hadn't moved away, either. Rather, he and Ginny were snogging while Luna read a book next to them with apparent unconcern. After a quick glance to Madam Pince, George continued. "The Headmaster has him in the Hospital Wing right now, being examined by Madam Pomfrey. Something seemed off."

"You're sure he can't marry me? I, I find I don't want him to, not at all."

"No, Miss Potter. The Covenant has made it so. He's not a part of this."

Hermione's eyes softened. "I felt the Covenant, you know. With the Stake. I didn't hold it, but I could feel it. Like there was more than the parchment could hold. And the scent, Geo- Mr. Weasley! I got a whiff of it and I could almost feel like, like you were holding me. All of you. And I was surrounded by you."

George felt his heart race and his mouth go utterly dry. "Oh. Well, that's, that's good, then. I'm glad it was a good experience for you, lo- Miss Potter." She moistened her lips with a quick flick of her tongue when their gazes met and held. He leaned in, already practically able to taste her.

"Uh, sorry. No. Not yet, guys, okay?"

Cheeks aflame, Hermione dropped George's hands and leaned back in her chair. "Says the man who can barely eat at mealtimes because he's kissing someone."

"Rules are rules, Hermione!" Ginny said with a broad grin. "George, can you stay for dinner?"

"I'm going to send my Patronus to Dad and find out what's up with, er, you-know-who."

"We are _not_ calling him that," Ginny declared, rising from Harry's lap with a toss of her head. "I refuse to call him The Ginger Lord."

Hermione snorted at that and moved to gather up her books and quill. "Me too. All right. I'll get this all sorted and then we can go to the Infirmary, all right? I want to know what's wrong as well."

They had about half an hour until dinner, so all five of them, Luna included, adjourned from the Library. The moving staircases all heeded the Savior of Wizarding Britain, apparently, which George commented on and which Harry waved off with a ducking of his head.

As they entered the Infirmary, George thought it smelled clean, but he detected no potions. Madam Pomfrey greeted them all as if taking attendance. "Miss Potter, Mr. Potter. Mr. and Miss Weasley. Miss Lovegood."

"Good evening, Madam Pomfrey," George said as the others all looked to him. _Is this how Bill feels when we do that?_ he wondered. He was the senior representative of the family here, he supposed. Straightening his shoulders, he knew he had to do his best. "We were all her to inquire about—"

"About Ronald," Hermione said, stepping in front of all of them and shooting him a look that dared him to stop her. "Professor Dumbledore, good evening. Geo- Mr. Weasley explained things to me, but I am still concerned about what will happen to _him_."

George looked over her head at the Mediwitch. "Have you had a chance to examine him, Madam Pomfrey?"

The Healer looked uncomfortable as she met his eye. "I have. And, er, this is a bit complicated. He should be sent to St. Mungo's. But, er, due to his uncertain status . . ."

Hermione inhaled loudly but George felt this was one of those times he'd have to act against what she might desire. She could yell at him later. "I'm going to advise sending for my father. I know that Ronald Weasley has been Weeded, but Dad might have information for the Healers."

Hermione turned and stared at his face, but George had to focus on the task at hand. He was not used to being the responsible one unless it was at the store, dammit. No one else reacted save for staring at Ron in his cot.

Madam Pomfrey laced her fingers together. She looked more stressed than he could remember having seen her when there wasn't a serious injury at hand. Merlin knew that he and Fred had spent enough time in her company over the years, so he knew her in pretty much all her moods. "What does _complicated_ mean, Madam Pomfrey?"

The older witch pressed her lips firmly closed in clear disapproval. "It's not something I would wish to discuss in the presence of innocent girls," she said in a low tone.

George couldn't help himself. He darted a quick look at his sister, who was exchanging a grinning glance with Luna, and he surmised that "innocent girls" probably didn't apply to them. However, he wasn't going to announce that out loud. Instead, he tried hard to wipe the images from the Library from his mind. "I understand. Let me send for Dad and you can talk to him." Without waiting for approval from anyone, he brought up his happiest memory, the one that he always used to conjure his Patronus. It was the day that Harry gave him and Fred the prize money from the Triwizard Tournament. It wasn't the money, it was what it _represented_. The moment that he knew—knew!—that he and Fred could open their shop. Someday, he imagined the witch standing next to him would bring him even better memories, but at the moment, he went with what he had.

" _Expecto Patronum!_ "

Seeing his shining, silvery fox always made him smile. He spoke to it. "Dad. Need you up at Hogwarts Infirmary. There's a situation with," he paused and shot a grin at his sister, "The Ginger Lord. I'll wait at Hogwarts for you." That being done, George addressed the Headmaster. "I'd like to speak with, with _him_ when he is awake, if that's possible."

"Perhaps after dinner, Mr. Weasley."

"Thank you."

Harry and Hermione were clearly reluctant to leave, but between them, George and Ginny and Luna got them out of the Infirmary. Harry was flanked by his girlfriends, who each took one of his hands as they walked a few paces ahead through the castle's halls.

George took Hermione's hand in his. "Are you going to tell me what he did in Arithmancy?"

Hermione tried to tug her hand away, but he clung to it and she stopped after only one attempt. "I told you. He said he would marry me and make you take him back into the family."

"The Headmaster mentioned spells?" George glanced down at his Bespoken One. "Any hit you?"

She snorted. "Not bloody likely." Then, she blushed. "Pardon me. Sorry. I mean, no. I can cast a quick shield, as you might remember from the D.A."

With a chuckle, he squeezed her hand. "I do. And I remember those Galleons. Protean charms as a Fifth Year. Always were a remarkable witch, Miss Potter."

While they made their way to the Great Hall and their dinner, George noted both the similarities and differences in the castle since he had studied there. A portrait was in a new space. That staircase was now crafted from a different stone. There were new ghosts lurking in dark corners overhead. "Have you spoken with that one, there?" he whispered to Hermione, using their joined hands to point to the spirit in question.

She glanced up at the shadowy figure of a child who was monitoring all the comings and goings into the Hall. "It's Colin. Colin Creevey. He, he died here last May. Worst part about coming back to school, G- Mr. Weasley. I feel just dreadful whenever I see him." Her voice trembled and George took a moment to hold her back from entering the Hall. Harry stopped at the entrance, evidently not in a hurry and willing to give them a moment of quasi-privacy.

"I'm so sorry," George murmured, reaching for her other hand so they faced each other. He drew them up and pressed them against his chest. "I didn't know him, really, but I can't imagine having to see his ghost every day."

Her eyes welled with tears and everything in him said to take her in his arms to provide comfort, but he really couldn't. She tugged their hands to her cheek to dry it. "It's only been a few days, but it's felt longer, sometimes. I really just want to take my N.E.W.T.s and graduate, you know?"

"I completely understand, Miss Potter." He smiled gently into her eyes.

She smiled bravely and tilted her chin. "You didn't even take yours, and look at you. Mr. Successful." With an obvious effort, she released one of his hands and turned to continue on their way. "Don't tell anyone, but I think what you and Fred do is just brilliant. And those Daydream Charms are extraordinary magic."

Warmth flared through his body, bringing a delighted grin to his face. "Why, thank you, Miss Potter. Can I tell my twin?"

Her tone was a bit flirtatious when she replied, "Perhaps I'll tell him myself when he visits."

* * *

Candles and bluebell flame lit the area around Ron's cot in the Infirmary when George returned there, sans Hermione but with Ginny, to meet their father. Dumbledore was nowhere in sight and George wondered if that was due to the fact that Ron had been Weeded or if the Headmaster had already covered everything with Dad.

"George, Gin. Good to see you both. He's awake." Dad briefly embraced them and they gathered at the foot of Ron's bed, half turned to each other with Ginny in the middle and half turned to Ron. "Ron is going to be going to St. Mungo's and, if he recovers fully from what ails him, we'll set him up elsewhere. At least he took his O.W.L.s. The Ministry will see to it that he is credited with them, at any rate, under whatever name he takes for himself."

Ginny scowled at The Ginger Lord. "How's Mum?"

"Oh, you know your mum. She cried, then cooked and baked and knitted sweaters for everyone last Christmas and now she's fine. More than fine, really." Their father smiled at George. "Anything to report?"

Ginevra giggled. "Oh, Dad! It's famous! Hermione's been blushing like anything since George arrived earlier."

"She's taken us for Consideration," George said, feeling the warm pride of that simmer in his chest. "We're all fine with that, really. Wouldn't want to keep her from her N.E.W.T.s!"

"No, indeed," Dad agreed with a lightened expression. "Well, now. Give her my best. She's welcome during the spring holiday if she can tear herself away from her revising."

"I hope she does," Ginny stated with a pout. "If she doesn't come home with me, Harry can't come, either."

"Oh?"

George lifted one brow. "Chaperone."

"Ah." Then, his father grinned with a far-too-knowing light in his eye. "I remember those days, indeed I do. Well, then. Off to bed with you Ginevra. I've things to discuss with your brother, here."

"Oooh, things about my soon-to-be sister-in-law?"

George felt his ears go hot, which only made his sister laugh loudly enough that Madam Pomfrey had to shush her. "Good _night_ , Ginevra," he said. "Go find Harry and Luna, yeah?"

"That's the plan!"

Once she had half-danced out of the Infirmary, Dad indicated a spare bed with a motion of his chin. "Come on."

George nodded; Dad looked very serious. "What is it?"

Dad took a breath. "Your brother has VMV. Have you heard of it?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about. Is that something that happens when someone is Weeded?"

Dad shook his head. " _Venerea morbis et venefici_. It's a magical bug, son. A sexually transmitted disease," he added after a dark moment.

"And he tried to kidnap our Bespoken One?" George bounced to his feet, ready to pound some sense into his brother. He didn't know what VMV did to someone, but any kind of such disease turned his stomach to think about. And what if Ron had overpowered Harry? Unlikely, but disasters happened. What would have happened to their Hermione?

His father pulled him back down to the cot where they were sitting. "I am not going to speculate on what he was planning to do with her, but it couldn't have been good. Now that he's under wrapping, so to speak, we can get him to St. Mungo's and get him treated. The Ministry's post-Weeding board will monitor him from there."

"Fine. Just so long as they keep him away from Hermione."

"We think it's still treatable, if Hermione asks. Please, though, try to, er, discourage her from talking about him. I know she'll be curious, but . . ."

"I'll try, Dad."

"Healers from St. Mungo's will be by in the morning. I'll stay with him until then, to make sure all is in order. You should probably go." His father slid him a playful smile. "I hardly think Miss Potter's guardian would approve of you staying here overnight."

"I'll feel better knowing you're here, Dad. So will Fred."

With a reassuring clap of the shoulder, his father got to his feet. "Me, too. I'll owl you once he's secure. You and Fred coming for dinner this weekend?"

"Dunno. Might try to get back up here!"

With Madam Pomfrey's wry cooperation, George jotted a quick note for Miss Hermione Jean Potter, to be delivered in the morning.

"I'll play owl," his dad assured him. "Now, off with you. I don't want your Consideration period to be compromised. You've waited a long time."

"Not too much longer, now!" Anticipation thrummed through his body as he left the Hospital Wing. So long as none of them screwed up too badly, it was possible that Hermione might be willing to accept their Stake after graduation. What was a few more months?

* * *

 _ **A/N: Thank you again, so much, for all the adds to your lists and to all those who read and review! Hat tip today to animelover5107 for catching review #700! I never figured I'd have so many for this. Thank you all!**_


	22. January - June 1999

_**A/N: Sometimes, I am given awesome questions and I'd love to answer, but if you're not signed in or aren't accepting PMs, I can't.**_

* * *

TWENTY-ONE

 ** _Owl Post_**

 ** _12 January 1999_**

My dear Miss Potter,

I do hope George behaved himself when he was with you recently. I was, of course, entirely envious that he got to spend time with you whilst I, the more handsome and hardworking twin, was forced to sell Pygmy Puffs and Skiving Snack Boxes to the masses.

Are you taking every single class known to witch or wizard for your final term at school? I remember catching glimpses of your revising schedules. They will long be the stuff of Hogwarts legend, I'm sure. Right after the Marauder's Map and, of course, the grand, explosive exit of two incredibly talented—and modest!—drop-outs.

I am afraid, dearest Bespoke Witch, that I haven't any practice in writing love letters. My talents are largely in trying to amuse. I hope I can bring a smile to your face, at any rate, up in the cold wasteland that is Scotland in January.

I am enclosing one of our Patented Daydream Charms. We might not be able to spend time with one another, and we might not be able to do more than stare into each other's eyes when we can see one another, but I like to think that a good imagination makes up for a lot, don't you?

So dream of me, sweet lady, and I'll dream of you.

Yours,

Mr. F.G. Weasley

Member of the Diagon Alley Chamber of Commerce

(Doesn't that sound respectable?)

* * *

 ** _13 January 1999_**

Dearest Miss Potter,

Do forgive my not having written before, but I've been up to my neck on assignment in Spain. Upon my return, I read a letter from your brother (that development was one of the more pleasant ones of last year, and I'm glad to know you have a brother of such high calibre) regarding certain security problems for you at school. I also understand from Dad that they are well in hand, now. I can only say how sorry I am that you were put in any sort of negative circumstance. I wish I could have been there, but I'm glad George was able to represent his brothers.

I'd like to see you, sooner rather than later. I can only imagine how unsettled you might be feeling, having the whole Marriage Stake issue brought up when you weren't raised in our traditions. We've been hoping for years, but you have had a matter of days with which to accustom yourself to this. You're a remarkable woman and I was so proud that you chose to consider House Weasley for your own.

I am available on the 16th. If you would be available to share part or all of your day with me, I'd very much appreciate the time. I know you'd have to coordinate with your brother.

Perhaps I could bring one of mine?

Until we meet again, I remain

Yours,

W. Weasley

* * *

 ** _2 February 1999_**

Dear Mr. Charles Weasley,

The Great Hall was still buzzing this morning after your visit yesterday. Not only did you surprise me, but you made many girls (in more houses than mine) swoon madly over the handsome, ginger dragon tamer.

I certainly never planned on flying on a dragon's back again after our escape from Gringotts, but I have to agree that flying with a trained man such as yourself was an adventure not to be missed.

Harry is still grinning and Ginny might even speak to me again one day. She's convinced Harry will drag her and Luna to Romania, now. Be prepared for a Howler!

I managed to collect all the work I missed during our escapade yesterday. Oddly, I am not nearly as nervous about finishing it as I might have been once. The world, even Hogwarts, is much smaller when seen from a dragon's back and I feel I have a new perspective. Thank you.

I look forward to hearing from you soon!

Fly safe!

Yours,

Hermione Potter

* * *

 ** _15 February 1999_**

Dear Bill, Charlie, Fred, & George,

Thank you! I feel very much like a princess from a story today. In the midst of my mad revising, I am nibbling on dark chocolate, admiring my bracelet, wearing a certain Quidditch Seeker's jersey with the name WEASLEY flaring all over the back of it, and petting the lovely Tawny Owl you brought me. I have named her Boudicca, after the Iceni warrior queen, and she is proving a good companion.

But even more than the wonderful gifts, it was lovely to see all of you. I have spent time talking with Ginny—of course it is a bit awkward, but she's my best female friend!—as well as another girl here who is considering the Stake of a House, and I'm coming to better appreciate how excellent you are.

So next time we meet, if I blush, you'll know why.

Spring Holiday won't be until April. I still don't know if I'll be able to leave. If I can't spend a week down at The Burrow, though, I'll try to get a day off to Floo down and spend time with whomsoever is about.

I'll write privately soon, but for now, I am afraid I will copy this and send it to you all.

Thank you again for a lovely Valentine's Day. So glad that all your gifts met with my guardian's approval. It was likely wise of you to choose dark chocolate, for who knows if he would have kept lemon drops?

With great affection, I remain,

Your

Hermione

P.S. Don't show this letter to anyone, now! I might have broken a rule!

* * *

 ** _31 March 1999_**

Dear Mr. William Weasley,

Thank you for your recent letter with the picture of the Mediterranean. I daresay you were right; that wouldn't be considered a gift. I framed it and put a sticking charm on it so I can see it when I wake up every day.

There's a full moon tonight, and of course my mind turned to you. How are you? I hope you are well. You mentioned, once, being fond of steak tartare at this time of the month and I hope that you are finding your meat to your liking. Perhaps you can show me how you prefer to prepare it sometime.

Thank you for thinking of me in terms of a new home. I confess, even thinking about it made me smile. You do have a way with words, Mr. Weasley. You know I love your parents, but I think I'd like to live in a different county. Fred and George work in Diagon Alley and I hope, perhaps, to one day be able to work in the Ministry regarding Care for Magical Creatures or something where I can do some good. Might we consider Beccles or thereabouts?

Revising is going well. My class load isn't horrid this term, but I am trying to do as well as I can so that my options are open. Rumor has it that the N.E.W.T.s will be held early this year, perhaps as early as O.W.L.s. Part of me is vastly relieved, to be honest. And part of me is so sad, because the reason they can do that is that there are so few of us who will be taking N.E.W.T.s this year.

You inquired after any unwelcome, er, suitors. Please don't worry, Mr. Weasley. Though it has been sometimes uncomfortable, I have Harry, Ginny, and Luna as a buffer of sorts. Can we do something very nice for them? They've been lovely.

I miss you. I miss you all.

Yours,

Hermione Potter

* * *

 ** _2 April 1999_**

Dear Miss Poppins,

Yes, we watched that Muggle movie about the witch who's like a house-elf and we decided that you, too, are practically perfect in every way. So if we give you a flying brolly for your graduation, you'll know why. You already have the bag, don't you? Mary Poppins had an Undetectable Extension Charm on hers. Did you see that movie as a child?

Thank you, lovely witch, for the fantastic birthday surprise. How did you know that the perfect gift for two modest businessmen would be for you to pop out the Floo with a birthday cake?

And a chaperone. And our sister. And their lover. (Which, by the way, we are gradually becoming accustomed to. I think. - F.G.W.)

(Sorry. I had to vanish something Fred wrote. Maybe we can discuss some topics at a future time. Let us know! - G.F.W.)

Thank Harry, by the way, for turning his back on us for a moment. (Or do we thank Luna? Maybe Gin? - F.) Much as we each enjoy holding your hand, Miss Potter, a regulation birthday hug was perhaps the best gift of all.

Loved the idea of skiving off after your exams are done. I really don't think the Headmaster will begrudge us that. What do you mean, it wasn't your idea? -wink- Maybe we could consider it an addition to our birthday present? Or an early one for you!

We're trying very hard to be patient, by the way. Four months is a long time to wait, but we've been hoping for you for years. So we'll keep a stiff upper lip and all that.

And try out new Daydream Charms.

With our love,

Mr. and Mr. Weasley

Brilliant Proprietors

and

Daydreaming Champions

P.S. Boudicca went hunting whilst she was here. She's brilliant.

* * *

 _ **13 April 1999**_

Dear Mr. C. Weasley,

It was wonderful to see your brothers when I got to spend the day with them during spring hols. I missed you, though. Still, do you know they told many frightfully brave stories of you, all of them—even your parents—chatting you up as much as they could, because they wanted, I know, to make very sure I am not forgetting you, though you are so far away.

I know that the dreadful burn you suffered just a couple of weeks ago is still hampering your ability to travel. I cannot even imagine. I've studied up on dragon burns on the human physiognomy, however, and my heart just hurts for you. Yes, I have missed you, but you need to stay where you are, where you can be tended to by experts.

You asked, in your last note (and yes, I could see that you used a Self-Writing Quill for it and I truly appreciate that you did!), if I had been made to feel at all uncomfortable here at Hogwarts, since we entered into Consideration. You are all so kind to inquire, truly. (Yes, I do mean "all" as each of you have asked after my wellbeing in this regard, which I find very sweet, thank you.) I find that if I smile just the right way and bring up your visit from back in February, it is enough to remind everyone that at least one of my suitors flies a dragon. Amazing how that dampens the ardor of a boy.

I am enclosing a copy of the photograph we all took at Valentine's Day, here in the common room, in case you didn't get a copy. Remember that day? I haven't forgotten a thing, so please don't think I'll forget you, either.

After all, I am noted for my prodigious memory, or haven't you heard? (Go ahead and roll your eyes; I can see you.)

May Boudicca stay overnight and rest before you send her back to me?

Still missing you,

Hermione Potter

* * *

 ** _20 May 1999_**

Dear Hermione,

I know, I know, I'm breaking a rule or two myself, but this formality is making me itch. We on the Reserve are not, as a rule, a formal crowd. Formal is remembering to kick the mud off your boots and chipping in for the Firewhisky.

The truth is, I feel bad that I haven't been able to spend as much time with you as I had planned, over the course of our Consideration period. That burn in March was not my best day. Or week. I can't remember, but I did appreciate the medical chocolate you sent. I had to beat the guys off with my wand, though, to make sure I kept it.

I feel rather inadequate writing, to be honest. I do much better face to face. I hope to be able to spend time with you like that soon. We've talked about it, amongst us (you know, my brothers) and right now, I haven't any plans on changing jobs or anything, so I'm kind of thinking I need to get better at writing. Or get a bigger place on the Reserve. If you, you know, accept our Stake.

I remember that we promised not to pressure you—much!—and I'm not trying to. Not really. Sometimes, I remind myself that the Covenant sort of introduced us only a few years ago, and at the time it made me a little mental, that you were only fourteen. But now, I think of you, and, well. You're not fourteen anymore, are you? Good thing, too, yeah?

In case I don't hear from you before exams, I wish you all the best. Break some records and shock McGonagall's pointy hat off her head. I hope to see you soon.

Love,

Charlie

* * *

 ** _1 June 1999_**

Dear George, Fred, Charlie, & Bill,

Sorry for another group letter, but I'm going spare. First N.E.W.T. went today. Transfiguration written and then practical. I just got done. This is one of my strengths, I think, but tomorrow is Ancient Runes and I know I'm going to go mental right in the middle of it.

Sorry! I'm really stretched right now. I thought I'd be more ready, you know?

Anyway. I am writing because I probably won't be writing (unless it's another cathartic letter like this one) until exams are over.

Do you suppose we could arrange to meet after exams? I miss you all and I really, really want to see you. As you might have guessed, I have an announcement to make.

Just not until I'm finished. I'll be no good to anyone until then.

Ginny, Harry, and Luna send their regards. We've finally found something that can keep them from what the Muggles call PDA. Another set of letters: NEWTs.

I'm rambling. Like someone hexed me or my quill with a Babbling Curse. I better go. It's late and I want to read my notes for Ancient Runes again.

I miss you all. I miss the Weasley smiles and even your oh-so-non-compromising hands.

Love,

Your Hermione

* * *

 ** _11 June 1999_**

 _William Weasley_

 _Charles Weasley_

 _Frederick Weasley_

 _George Weasley_

 _This is official notice that your Marriage Stake, Cast for Hermione Jean Potter, has been accepted._

 _Please plan on attending the Binding Ceremony at_

 _Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry at 3 o'clock on the afternoon on 14 June 1999._

 _Bring with you evidence that, whichever among your brethren that she chooses, you will be able to provide for her in the manner expected._

 _An official from the Ministry has already been engaged._

 _Best wishes,_

 _Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore_

 _Order of Merlin, First Class_

 _Grand Sorcerer_

 _Supreme Mugwump_

 _Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot_

 _Headmaster, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry_


	23. The Binding 13-14 June 1999

_**A/N: Of course, I modeled the Binding Ceremony on the delightful one from**_ **The Bespoke Witch** _ **. It may seem overly formal, considering they've been in Consideration for months, but I decided that this was The Form and I stuck with it. Except, ahem, when I didn't.**_

* * *

TWENTY-TWO

 _ **The Burrow, 13 June 1999**_

"Bloody hell, she doesn't give a man time to pack, does she?" Charlie's words almost preceded him as he strode out of the fireplace and into The Burrow. In one hand, he had a rucksack and pair of clean boots. In the other, a sheaf of parchment.

Bill met him with a broad smile, looking up over the open lid of a small, heavily warded casket that sat in front of him on the low table. "At least she didn't change her mind."

Charlie dumped his gear on one of the chairs. "What's that you have there?"

Bill picked up a small ring with a bar flattening its top. "The House Runes. I'm preparing them for her to choose amongst them."

Charlie's blue eyes went round. "So, that's for her tit, yeah?" He cringed a little, but his tone was entirely reverent. "Er, I mean, to be Marked with, right?"

"Right. Mum has a Mark on her skin."

"But that one is for her nipple? Pierced?"

"If she wants it that way, yeah. Or like a brand?"

Charlie made a pained sound. "You'll _brand_ her? Like, like the Muggles do their _cattle_?"

With a sheepish expression, Bill rubbed at the back of his neck. "Well, I talked a bit to Dad, you know. And he said it's not like that, not exactly. But it's there." Then, he carefully smoothed out his expression. "For all I know, it could be _you_ who Marks her. I should go over the ritual with you, just in case."

"Me?" Charlie shook his head almost violently before he stopped and took a step back. "No, Bill. I don't think so. Out of all of us that she'd not choose? Me. I'm the one that hasn't managed hardly to see her this past half-year. I'm the one that can't seem to put two sentences together and could only think of a blasted old game jersey to give her as a Valentine's Day present. No. If she's going to not want _all_ of us? I'm the one that'll be heading back to the Reserve alone." He had half-prepared himself for this eventuality, as it happened. Ever since he'd seen the duplicated letter from Dumbledore, he had talked himself almost into believing he wouldn't be included in Hermione's choice of husbands.

Bill replaced the Rune he'd been fiddling with and sat back to regard his brother. "Now look. Hermione wouldn't leave just one of us alone, you know that. She's studied the custom and she has to know that a man alone wouldn't even have a House Wife, but just a regular marriage. She wouldn't want that to happen." He shrugged and looked beyond Charlie to a row of books on a shelf. "And as we discussed before, she wouldn't split up the twins, so if she doesn't take us all, she'll likely choose _either_ you and me _or_ Fred and George."

They stared at each other for a full, silent minute. Then, Charlie found his _I Laugh in the Face of Dragon Fire_ attitude and bent down to pick up his stuff. "There's a cheerful thought. Here's the information you wanted," he went on, retrieving the parchment and handing the stack to Bill. "I'll go ahead and head to my room, then. Clean up. Where's Mum?"

"I think she and Ginny are with Hermione today. Up at Hogwarts."

Charlie laughed. "I rather feel for our witch. I hope Mum's going easy on her."

* * *

 _ **93 Diagon Alley, 13 June 1999**_

Fred paced. George sat. Neither were speaking, though both were studying a picture of their Bespoken One. Fred held the wizarding picture taken on Valentine's Day. In it, he and his brothers were standing around Hermione in front of the fire in the Gryffindor Common Room. Harry had taken the picture and it had been hard as hell to keep half the Gryffindors in the place out of the image.

But there they were, the five of them. Fred couldn't help but look for Percy. _He should have been in this. He should have been there with a hand on her shoulder or holding her hand on the other side_. Ron wasn't there, either, but Fred was all right with that. Ron had never been a part of their relationship with Hermione. Fred still didn't understand, but he didn't dwell on it.

George sat hunched over, staring at the picture in his hand. It was from their birthday party a couple of months prior. Hermione had put their cake in some Muggle carrier to take it through the Floo. She had made it herself; the house-elves at Hogwarts had _let her in their kitchen_ to make them a birthday cake. One layer had been chocolate, one strawberry, because he and Fred weren't entirely identical in every aspect.

Especially not since George himself had lost an ear to a Death Eater.

So there they were in this picture, laughing as Hermione fed a bite of cake with her fingers to him and to Fred. He remembered sucking her frosting-coated finger into his mouth when it was his turn, and how he'd licked every last hint of vanilla from her skin. He'd drawn that slender digit deeper into his mouth, working it gently until she quit breathing and her eyes went all soft and hot and her cheeks pinked up and it was better than any Daydream Charm.

And Harry hadn't said a thing.

In the picture, she was just putting the cake in Fred's mouth, and George was glad there were presents on the table, too, or it would have been far too obvious how _happy_ a birthday he had been having.

It was just the three of them in this picture. He kind of liked that, but he also knew it might not be this way ever again. "What if she doesn't choose us?" he murmured. He knew his brother would hear him.

"What if she still misses Old Perce?"

"What if she doesn't want both of us?"

"Cor, Forge, you know better than that. We've talked about it. She wouldn't split us up. She knows us. Besides, how could she resist us? We figured out the secret to her bag!"

They chuckled softly and George nodded. "Besides, she said she loved us and missed us."

"And she made our favorite cake," Fred added, coming to look over George's shoulder at his picture.

"We should read over those promises again, yeah?"

"Yeah."

* * *

 _ **Hogwarts, 14 June 1999**_

Wearing his best dress robes and a blue shirt that his mother said matched his eyes, Bill had the paperwork gathered in an attaché case much like the bankers at Gringotts used on a daily basis. He hefted the thing up and onto the Headmaster's desk while his brothers stood behind him in support and unity. They were all in this together.

The crafty old wizard had cleared off a spot right in front of him. "First, let me extend my congratulations to you all. Not only for having your Stake accepted, but for all the work you put into getting to know your Bespoke Witch over the years. I can only imagine how difficult it was for you especially, Bill and Charlie. Being older and not in school during the same span of time."

"She's been worth every effort, Professor Dumbledore," Bill said firmly.

"Absolutely," the others chimed in behind him.

"You have the information I requested?" Dumbledore indicated the leather case with a nod.

Untying the lacing, Bill said he did. "A summation of our holdings at Gringotts as well as the deed to a property in Beccles." He smiled a little. "There's a clandestine Wizarding community there and it's convenient."

As he said this to the Headmaster, Bill felt as if all the pieces of a complicated combination clicked inside of him. He started to laugh and couldn't seem to stop.

Charlie, as next oldest, pulled him aside with a _Just a moment_ expression on his mobile features. "Bill? What is it? A laughing curse on your bag?"

"No," Bill wheezed when he could breathe. "I just realized, she's choosing us _all_. When she and I wrote back and forth about the house. She made sure it would suit each of us in at least some way."

Charlie thumped him on the back. "Oh, is _that_ all? I thought sure you'd gone spare. Come on, then, let's finish this."

Dumbledore appeared satisfied. "Quite impressive, gentlemen," he stated as he levitated the records in fine order, pushing them gently back into the leather case. "I am sure your House Wife will continue to prosper you, as well."

The younger men all nodded, and Bill felt an almost overwhelming pride in his chest. They had done well, the four of them. The Weasley family hadn't been known for their prosperity—what with seven children and Arthur working for the Ministry—but in this generation? They had prospered and their assets reflected that. Their House Wife would bring beauty and brains and magical ability to their family, and they had proved they were capable of caring for her in a manner suitable. "Thank you, sir."

"Let's begin, shall we?"

And just like that, things changed. At some signal, the door to Dumbledore's office opened and a tall, spare fellow with _Ministry of Magic_ written all over him entered. "This is Jeremiah Futz. He'll be witnessing your Binding this afternoon."

The sudden idea of _This is happening!_ seemed to have overtaken the minds of each of his brothers. They didn't yet have his surety that Hermione would in fact be choosing them all, so there was still some insecurity lingering in the corners of Fred and George's eyes, and Charlie's posture was a tad defensive, but Bill knew that would disappear shortly.

Then, Harry and Hermione Potter stepped into the office. There were no guests; this was a private Binding and that suited Bill just fine. He never would remember what Harry wore, but Hermione took his breath away. Charlie swore under his breath with a soft reverence and the twins each broke into a smile that lit up half the room.

"Merlin," George said softly.

Fred took an uncertain step forward. "You look prettier than even at the Yule Ball."

She wore a golden-hued dress with short, sheer sleeves and a neckline that drew Bill's eye for what it displayed as well as what it concealed. Her rich brown curls were tamed but danced with spirit around her shoulders in the same way that the hem of the dress danced near her knees. She wore the bracelet he had given her for Valentine's Day, too, and it winked at him from her wrist.

"We need to say something before we get started," he declared, looking around at his brothers and getting their nods of affirmation.

Dumbledore's brows rose in his forehead. "It is irregular, but go ahead."

Harry eyed them curiously, but nodded his acquiescence as well.

Bill cleared his throat. "Miss Potter. We just wanted you to know, before we were bound and official and before you were legally and magically obligated, that we love you. Each of us individually and all of us together. Don't know if it would have happened like this without the Weasley Covenant, but all of us are glad it did. And we wanted you to know it for sure."

She just stood there, her smile growing little by little until its joy encompassed her face. "I love you, too. Each of you individually and all of you together." A tear crept from the corner of her eye and she wiped it away with a knuckle. "Thank you for telling me now."

Charlie felt his body relax in relief and saw that each of his brothers did the same. It was always a pleasure to know they had done something right for their Bespoken One.

With a look that said, "Are you finished?" Professor Dumbledore stepped briskly between Hermione and the brothers. "Let us begin. Gentlemen, this is Hermione Jean Potter." He took one of her hands and brought her a little away from Harry. "Miss Potter, allow me to introduce Mr. William Weasley, Mr. Charles Weasley, Mr. Frederick Weasley, and Mr. George Weasley. And this is Mr. Jeremiah Futz, who will witness the completion of this Stake Casting."

Bill and his brothers all bowed with great formality to the golden vision before them. She amazed them by curtsying to each one of them and he had to smile. Someone had taken the time to walk her through this so she wouldn't be unprepared. He thanked whomever it was from his heart.

Dumbledore brought her to the circle glowing on the floor in the middle of the office before retrieving their Stake from his desk. "Who has Cast this Marriage Stake for this lady?" he intoned.

Bill and his brothers all stepped into the circle to join their witch. "The Stake was Cast by the House of Weasley."

Dumbledore nodded. "My lady," he continued to Hermione, "A Stake has been Cast for your hand by the House of Weasley. Do you accept this Stake, and therefore the position of House Wife?"

There was a pause and Bill heard Charlie draw in a loud breath. Then, Hermione curtsied again and held out her hand. "I accept the Stake, sir."

"Then as Stake Keeper, I give it to you as pledged Wife to the House of Weasley. Present to me your pledged husbands."

Hermione first lingered in looking at the scroll she held and Bill saw her smile as she inhaled over it. Then, she handed it back to Dumbledore and began the introductions, presenting each of them as her intended husbands while she held their hand. This required some smooth maneuvering, but she had been prepared and seemed to have a good sense of how much space each of them would need.

Bill's heart swelled; how could he and his brothers have ever worried? In everything she had said and done and written since she had accepted them in Consideration, Hermione had clearly shown that she accepted all of them. Individually and as a unit.

Once all had been presented, Hermione rested her hand on the scroll again and Dumbledore indicated each of the brothers do the same. They all contrived to have some part of each hand touch a bit of hers, which made for one slightly unusual twist but when they had done so, the Headmaster raised his wand and began to trace some sort of invisible things in the air above the scroll, his mouth moving in silent incantation. Bill felt his own magic rising to the surface in a tingling warmth and he imagined each of his brothers did, too. The destination of this feeling was Hermione's hand, where bright silvery tendrils curled around her left ring finger and settled into a lacy pattern over the back of her hand and around her wrist. He saw runes in those patterns, Ancient Runes that spoke of fidelity, honor, and protection. Not love, but then he imagined that in a ceremony older than Hogwarts itself, perhaps, love had not always been necessary in a Binding.

The scroll of their Casting dissolved as the tracing brightened on her skin and Hermione gasped in obvious wonder. Her eyes were bright as she turned her arm over and under, and she met each of their eyes with a delighted smile in her own.

Mr. Futz from the Ministry stepped up then to congratulate them all. "An honor, an honor," he said. "Strong magic indeed."

Dumbledore nodded and stroked his beard. "I'll see you out. Mr. Potter? You'll stay with your sister and her intended husbands until I return? It is officially time for their individual visits, so they may do so if you are within view."

"Of course, sir." After Dumbledore left, though, all the formality disappeared from the room as well. Harry held out his arms to Hermione and she fell into them, thanking him for everything. Charlie coughed impatiently and Harry laughed. "All right. So. There are rules for this part too, Hermione, guys. Ahem," he added with feigned pomposity. "Behave yourselves. You're not alone. And," he added more naturally, "I know you've been doing this Miss This and Mister That thing for months, but you're allowed to drop it, now, if you want. When you're comfortable." He smiled the slightly self-deprecating smile that had been seen on endless copies of _The Daily Prophet_ and in _The Quibbler,_ not to mention assorted Chocolate Frog cards. "Just remember, I was The Chosen One and I _will_ protect my sister."

"Oh, Harry. Honestly," Hermione said with a soft slap of reprimand. "Give over." Then, she hugged him again and whispered something in his ear that Bill couldn't hear. Leaving Harry's embrace, she turned to Bill. "So, Mr. Weasley. I believe we're supposed to improve upon our acquaintance now?"

Bill looked quickly to Harry, who nodded in the direction of a small sitting area next to a narrow, arched window with leaded glass. "Come," Bill invited their witch with an elaborate bow. "Let's do that."

He offered her his arm in a way that would have made his mother beam with pride. Hermione took it and they crossed the office to the alcove, where there was precisely one chair. He took a breath and sat on it, tugging on her hand a bit until she stood between his knees. His heart was hammering all of a sudden. _Why am I so nervous?_

Perhaps because she appeared to be so?

"I can offer you my knee," he decided to say with a small smile. "If you'd like to sit."

She blushed but nodded. "All right." He braced her with an arm about her waist as she settled gingerly on his left knee, so that her face was to the window, not the rest of the office's occupants. She slid a little on the slick fabric of his robes and braced herself with one hand on his shoulder. "Sorry," she mumbled.

"Not complaining." Someone had to say something, he decided after a silent few moments. "I take it you've been researching the ceremonies and so on?"

She smiled and inclined her head. "I have. Professor McGonagall and your mother have been most helpful. And I've been visiting with Astoria Greengrass, who has accepted the House of Nott." She blushed but Bill didn't ask about that as she appeared _very_ uncomfortable. "Then, too, there's this." She touched her hair lightly. "Ginny. She's brilliant with hair spells."

"You're brilliant, too, Miss Potter. And in case I didn't say so earlier, you look beautiful." _Keep the conversation moving_ , he reminded himself. "So, when would you like to continue with the Marking Ceremony?" If he were honest with himself, he was both greatly desiring to experience that ceremony and bloody terrified of it. "I've prepared the Runes for you to examine at The Burrow, but we can have the ceremony anywhere." At her renewed blush, he took her free hand in his own. "We're all of us novices on that one, and I'm nervous myself."

"You? _That_ I can hardly believe, Mr. Weasley." She smiled playfully as her cheeks lost their embarrassed tint. "Exams are done, now, and I'm fairly certain the Headmaster will give me leave to go with you for the Marking. Maybe we could go to the new house?"

"That would be perfect. New lives beginning with old traditions." He pressed her body a little closer to his, drinking in her personal scent that combined fresh apples and spicy cinnamon. He'd never get tired of that. "I'd like to do that soon, if that's all right with you. Especially since Charlie's down from Romania."

She dropped her gaze. "Ah, yes. Of course. The books say that it is customary for the Marking to happen as soon as possible, to avoid any challenges to the, ah, House."

Concerned, Bill moved his head until his eyes met hers. "Have you experienced anything like this here at school, Her— Miss Potter?"

She frowned and shook her head. "Not exactly. Just, er, some awkward moments. Some of the Houses who Cast have sons here at Hogwarts and, I couldn't imagine having taken any of them in Consideration, you know? Only, only you." As she finished, she turned her face and her nose brushed his.

Really, a man could only withstand so much when his fiancée was on his knee. "Hermione," he whispered, leaning in just a little. "May I?"

Her small smile welcomed him. "Yes, Bill."

It was his first kiss ever and he was apprehensive about it, but Bill brushed her lips with his without causing anyone injury. Hermione didn't even slip off his lap. "Let's try that again," he said with a smile, closing his eyes on his next pass and cupping her head in one hand while pulling her even closer to himself with the arm that held her near.

She sighed sweetly into the space between them and he felt like he could just melt into the moment. Petal-soft lips, luxurious hair, and that scent that was distinctly Hermione surrounding him in a feminine cloud.

"Perfect," he whispered.

* * *

"You know, watching is probably a bit rude," Fred remarked with a nudge to Charlie's side.

"Yeah," George added, "I mean, you want us to watch you?"

Charlie laughed and dragged his eyes away. "Okay, okay."

"I have to call time anyway, Charlie. You're up next," Harry said with a grin. "It is a bit awkward watching my Hermione kissing someone. I guess I have to apologize to her for the past few months."

Charlie and the twins stared at him with lifted brows and Harry obviously remembered that these were Ginny's brothers. "Er, sorry?" Clearing his throat, he called, "Hermione?"

"I'm not a Quaffle to be passed, even if you _are_ all Quidditch players," Hermione said when Bill—looking smug and besotted all in one—brought her back across the office. Still, she smiled into Charlie's eyes and he barely noticed when she touched his arm. "Well, Mr. Charles Weasley?" She cocked her head and made as if he were a particularly daunting puzzle. "We definitely need to become better acquainted."

Charlie didn't know if he should be reassured or put on his guard by that. He offered his hand and they crossed the office. "Right then. I agree." He did feel that he didn't know her nearly as well as his brothers did, due to his failure to visit often and his inability to compose courting letters. "So, tell me, Miss Potter," he said as he leaned against the wall with the window so that she could once again face away from the rest of the men in the room. "What would you like to know about me?" At her surprised look, he squinched up his face in chagrin. "Like I wrote you once, I know I'm rubbish at this. I don't want you to feel that I'm a stranger, you know? I know that you've had time over the years with the rest of the family. You and Gin are friends, yeah?"

"Absolutely. Ginny is amazing." She flashed him a mischievous grin. "As long as I do everything she tells me!" They laughed lightly together and Charlie felt himself relaxing. "You know, she told me that the two of you are close."

"I'm glad she thinks so. She's a right handful, but she's also wicked smart."

"So are you, I imagine, sir. On both counts."

"So, anything I can tell you?"

"Anything I can tell _you_?" she countered.

"Want to fly on a dragon again?"

She leaned forward. "I might, but only if we can leave Harry here."

Encouraging her nearness, he pulled her a bit closer to him. She had sat on Bill's lap, so he guessed this was allowed. "I'd like that. We'll make it happen. So. What's next for Hermione Potter? Did you want to join the Aurors like Harry or go in the Ministry or maybe a private firm?"

She bit her lip. "I am not entirely sure. I've received many offers from private firms as well as from the Ministry. More than anything, I want to do some good, you know? I love to research and write and study, but I want it all to _mean_ something. I was kind of hoping for Care of Magical Creatures in some respect. Wasn't that your specialty in school? I mean," she said with a lilt to her voice, "aside from being a brilliant Quidditch captain?"

A spark of anticipation lit inside of him and he slid his hands up her arms until he cupped her face between his palms. "The voice for those who have no voice, Miss Potter?"

Her eyes glowed. "Yes . . . and it's Hermione," she whispered, her focus dropping to his mouth. "Please call me Hermione, Charlie."

"Hermione. I've always liked the way your name sounded. Ever since we met at the World Cup." He was watching her, trying to treat her with the utmost care. "You're something of a magical sort of creature yourself, you know." Indignation flared in her gaze but before it got out of hand, he gentled her with a soft kiss pressed to her forehead. "I mean, a man could spend a lifetime getting to know you, and still watch out for the flame." He tried a smile. "Is that all right, then?"

"I think so."

"Good." And then, because he felt he had settled her nerves as well as his own, Charlie tilted her head just so and found her lips with his.

For a chaste kiss, it was searing, blazing a path through him to his heart. "Again," she murmured when he pulled away.

"Absolutely."

* * *

Fred and George exchanged a rueful look as the door to the Headmaster's Office opened. "There goes our fun."

Harry frowned a bit. "Well, that wouldn't be fair, you know."

Dumbledore approached them. "We need to proceed to the second part, then, gentlemen."

"Oi, Charlie!" Fred called.

"The twins didn't get a chance to visit privately," Harry told the Headmaster.

"We can do it together," George blurted. "I mean, we can share _this_ time." Bill had mentioned that the Marking would be following as soon as possible, and he actually was highly curious as to how that would work, as sharing would go four ways.

"You may have a few minutes. I am sorry," Dumbledore went on, but Fred didn't know how sincere the older wizard was, "that we have to rush things. But we do need to finish."

Bill seemed to agree, though he offered his youngest brothers an apologetic look. "We have to set up the Marking," he said for Charlie's benefit. Hermione blushed at that, and Fred found his entire attention taken by her.

He took one of her hands while George took her other one. "Fill us in on the details," they told Bill together.

And they grinned. Fred always enjoyed how in harmony they were.

Hermione looked from one to the other. "Er, um. Where would you like to sit? There's the chair but it's not big enough for two, never mind three."

George chucked her chin in a friendly manner as they reached the lone armchair. "You're not the only genius at Transfiguration." He withdrew his wand from inside his dark dress robes and, smiling, passed it a few times over the chair. "There. Big enough for three."

"Wait. Needs some color," Fred declared. With a smirk, he added. "Wandlessly." He changed the chair's color to a rich maroon as opposed to its prior dark green.

"Show-off."

" _Honestly_ , you two."

Fred claimed one corner of their love seat and pulled Hermione to settle next to him. George joined them, claiming her hand again. "The way I see it," the one-eared twin began, "we've spent lots of time getting acquainted, Hermione."

"Too right!" his counterpart said as he laced his fingers through those on her other hand. "So, let me just ask you a question, all right?"

Hermione seemed surprised and a bit uncertain. Her back stiffened. "Sure . . . ?"

"When we were all in school together, did you like us? Even just a bit?"

"You as in House Weasley or you as in Fred and/or George?"

Fred shrugged. "Either. Or."

She blushed. "I, ah, found you both to be quite brilliant and fascinating, to be honest."

"Aw, Gred, she found us to be brilliant!"

"And fascinating, Forge!"

"Only fair, you know, since we thought the same."

"I also like the Patented Daydream Charms," she confessed quietly. "They've been splendid."

"Let's break tradition, Fred," George said, staring into Hermione's eyes.

He heard his twin laugh a little. "Go on, then."

"Miss Poppins," George whispered. "You're practically perfect in every way."

"You better kiss him or he'll go on like that for an hour," Fred murmured, scooting around so that he was gently nudging their witch in George's direction.

George wasn't about to complain. He moved to wrap his arm around her, bringing her up lightly against him, albeit at a love-seat-compelled angle. She closed her eyes, but he left his open, unwilling to miss a moment of this. He blocked out the idea that Fred would be making an immediate follow-up and was probably taking silent notes even then, choosing instead to just _focus_. "Getting acquainted," he whispered against Hermione's lips.

They curved and he covered them with his own, brushing, pressing, then pulling just a little to see if she'd follow. She did, making the most intriguing sound in her throat.

That sound _did_ something to him, though, which frankly shocked him so that he broke off the kiss and tried to find his breath again. "Hermione."

"Mmm?"

"My turn," Fred insisted. So, being the helpful brother he was, George slid their Bespoken One around, even though she chided them with her bossy sounds. "Thank you, George Old Boy."

Fred plunged his hands into Hermione's hair and kissed their witch as if he'd been practicing it for months. Which he hadn't, but in some ways they both had, thanks to their Daydream Charms. It was so good, so much better than good, he decided, angling for a second pass. He wanted to taste her, to know what her fingers would feel like on his skin to—

"Fred. Harry's waving us down, here."

Reluctantly, Fred released Hermione and, endlessly grateful for dress robes, all but leapt off the transfigured chair to his feet. "Come on, then. Let's finish!"

George was gratified to see that Hermione looked a little like she'd been seriously snogged. Kissing four men in less than an hour could do that, he guessed.

* * *

 _ **A/N: Thank you again, so much, for reading and sharing this story. I'm blown away over here. Y'all are great. Tip of the hat today to MissAnnaH519 for catching review #800. Did you hear my jaw hit my laptop?**_

 _ **Binding Ceremony Part Deux on Monday. See you then!**_


	24. The Binding, Part 2

_**A/N: Sorry if my posting and answering are off schedule, today. Mr. Summers is home today and my usual "work day" is thereby altered. :)**_

* * *

TWENTY-THREE

 ** _Hogwarts, 14 June 1999_**

Charlie wasn't always proper, he knew that. Often, he eschewed convention entirely just to shock someone. But for this, he had made sure to go over the details with Bill. Bill, who bore the burden of taking the lead in every aspect of their Binding and Marking. Bill, who had to prepare the Runes and learn how to set them onto the very body and magical signature of their witch. Bill, who loved this kind of thing because it was cloaked and arcane.

Charlie had never been more relieved not to be the eldest Weasley.

Still, he had been prepared for each vow, each declaration. Except for the kissing beforehand. He supposed kissing before the vows or after didn't matter if they happened on the same day. Certainly Hermione hadn't complained. Neither had Harry. Good lad, Harry.

"Return to the circle," Dumbledore directed. They did so, settling themselves as they had earlier, with the Headmaster arranging their hands to clasp one another in a large sort of knot. Each of his brothers held themselves a bit more relaxed than they had earlier. "This witch has accepted your Stake and I have given her to you for the furthering of your House. How will you keep her?"

For just a moment, pain pierced Charlie right through the heart. _Percy should be here_. He was the one who made them to do this just right. _Wherever you are, mate, I hope you know how much you are missed. And that she cared for you_.

Bill was answering the Headmaster's ritual question. "She will live in a house that will give her comfort."

Charlie spoke his line. "We will hold her in esteem before all others, giving her our very best for the rest of our lives."

Fred had his eyes entirely on Hermione when he said, "We will give her children, our House's pride."

"We will share our bed with her and she will bear our Mark." George said his part with a clear voice that was louder than maybe it needed to be. Charlie guessed their youngest brother was a bit nervous.

Dumbledore's eyes were focused entirely on the sparks that emerged from the intricate spell he was weaving over their joined hands. Charlie found the aerial design fascinating. It looked a bit like the lacy runic decoration on Hermione's left hand. At Dumbledore's nod, they all dropped their hands, dis-entwining them and each touching their witch in some way on her back or an arm. Charlie darted a look at her and saw that her eyes were wide and her lips parted. _No one told her about this part,_ he deduced. _Hope she's okay with it!_

Dumbledore began the next part of the ceremony. "A House is founded on its warriors and furthered by its Wife. Who takes up the burden of care for this Wife-to-be?"

Bill looked to Charlie to start this one, as he had warned him would happen. Charlie cleared his throat, not accustomed to being first. "We will provide all she needs, body and soul."

"We will support her in all her endeavors," Fred vowed for them.

George promised, "She will know our secrets and our love."

Charlie rather thought Bill had the most provocative line. "And her pleasure shall be ours."

Some versions of the vows and promises were in the singular, in that book that Percy had shown them the year before. Some were in the plural. The discussion on that had taken a while.

 _"The most ancient ones were as if each husband vowed for himself alone, so that the responsibility was divided for their witch," Percy said. Well, he'd guessed, anyway._

 _Fred had argued, "But we've always done this together. All of us. I know that with His Holeyness over there, 'we' is always our first option."_

 _"Let's stick with the plural terms," Bill said in a final decision. "We are a family. We know how to share, right?"_

 _The innuendo was in no way hidden and each Weasley man had laughed while their faces tried to catch fire in the dying light of the day_.

Hermione's breath was audible in the silence that fell between the brothers at Bill's vow. But he had no time to figure it out because the next bit was coming and the had to shift about again so that they stood in a semi-circle before Hermione, who was now looking flushed, her cinnamon eyes dilated and lips parted. Could she be any more kissable? Charlie didn't think so.

"Who brings a gift to this circle?"

"I bring a gift for my bride-to-be, and I will receive one from her." This one had to be Bill, Dad had said. And the gifts had to be individual, just like they were at Valentine's Day.

"What is this gift and what will you take?" Dumbledore asked.

Bill cupped Hermione's cheek in his hand. His voice was so soft when he spoke that Charlie wondered if Hermione could even hear him. "I will take her virginity. And in return, I give her mine." Hermione's face colored a beautiful rosy shade.

"Your gift is acceptable and shall be given on your wedding day. Who else has brought a gift to your Wife-to-be?"

Fred took this one, which Charlie was grateful for. The twins had always been good at improvising. "My brothers and I have all exchanged the gift of our first kiss with our Wife-to-be, under the auspices of this office and with the blessing of her family."

 _Nice one, Fred._

Dumbledore coughed a little, but his eyes were twinkling when the men arranged themselves behind and beside Hermione once more. "Precipitous, but an acceptable gift, freely given and received. Be it known that you have pledged yourselves to this lady as your House Wife. The Binding is true and has been witnessed. Is your Marking planned and warded?"

Hermione turned pink once again and looked to Bill, just as they all did. _She learns fast_.

Their eldest brother answered, "Planned but not yet Warded. We will be conducting it in our new home very soon. The wedding is scheduled for the next full moon."

Dumbledore looked impressed. "Auspicious indeed. I will owl Arthur. Until the day that Hermione Jean Potter is taken to Wife, she will be regarded as your Lady and shall be granted all rights and protections as such." His voice dropped to a more conversational tone. "Send pertinent information on the Marking to me, if Miss Potter will be away from her lessons for more than an afternoon. Her brother will be the Warder?"

"Yes, sir." Harry, who had borne witness to the ceremonies, shifted a bit on his feet before looking anywhere but at Hermione.

 _This courtship is filled with awkward moments_ , Charlie reflected.

"Well, then." Dumbledore made a little gesture with his wand and the glowing circle on the floor disappeared. "Will I be seeing you in the Great Hall for dinner, Mr. and Miss Potter?"

"Yes, Headmaster," Hermione said, her tone absolute. "Thank you for everything."

They were dismissed with a nod, but Charlie still felt as if he didn't know what had just happened. "Can we go find an empty room somewhere?" he asked the group at large.

"Just your brothers or with my sister?" Harry wanted to know. He stopped on the stairs that led away from the Headmaster's Office, feet braced on different steps.

"Hermione?" Charlie asked, as their pretty little witch looked disoriented. She might be needing a moment. He knew he did himself. "Shall we go and owl you after a bit when we've got it sorted?"

"Er, yes, Charlie. Thank you. Of course."

"See you soon, then, love," he said, catching her behind her head and kissing her goodbye, just because he knew he could, now.

His brothers followed suit and then they were all following Fred, who had good instincts for privacy. Hermione—her steps slightly unsteady—and Harry headed in the direction of the Gryffindor common room, which seemed like a good idea for both of them.

* * *

 ** _New House, Beccles, 15 June 1999_**

"There is such an echo in here," George declared, turning about in the empty lounge they were thinking of calling the Study on the ground floor. A window opened to a slightly overgrown garden with loads of colorful flowers that caught the day's cloud-streaked sunshine. The adjacent wall boasted a larger than average hearth which would be ideal for adding to the Floo network. "We have a lot to do to get it ready."

He could hear Fred's Apparition crack in the hall just outside the room. "This place is excellent! You know, we could live here, Forge!"

"I thought that was the plan," George remarked from the hearth as Fred entered the room. "Living here, commuting to work, coming home at night to our Wife. You know." His smile was involuntary.

"Unless our Wife is off saving werewolves or some such," Bill called from the hall. "Here. I've got the Runes and a table and all that. We need to get the Wards up. Harry will be here soon."

"He's not bringing the girls, is he?" Fred cringed. "I mean, he knows he's on duty, right? The whole time?"

Bill flashed him a wicked smile. "Oh, yes."

"And how long might that be?" George wanted to know. "There are rules, yeah?"

Charlie's groan could be heard from, of course, the hall. He strode into the lounge and looked about. "Bit bare for the big ceremony, Bill," he said with a wink. "So. Rules. Since I'm the only one that can talk about it without going spare . . ."

Bill cast an _Engorgio_ on a pile of tiny pillows until they reached their full, fluffy glory. Then he chucked one at the dragon tamer. "Fine. Remind us all, O Mating Expert."

The twins snorted, the sound echoing about the empty room.

Charlie bowed and then stood like a professor. "Rule One. Our Bespoken One is a virgin and we are to do all in our power to maintain that status until our wedding day. Note that the rule says nothing about the wedding night which makes me wonder, Big Brother, if that means we have no chaperone that day?"

"It's Harry. As her brother, he'll be here anyway. But I'm guessing," Bill said with a huge sigh, "that he can bring Ginny and Luna that day. By the way, did you get him that thing for his _thank you_ present? Hermione wanted to make sure we got him something nice."

With a salacious smile, Charlie said he had. "Rule Two. Her pleasure shall be ours. She can't find it for herself until we're married."

"That's harsh. What about us?" Fred said, his ears red at the curves.

"Oh, we can. But, we have to be careful around her, you know? Especially you, Messrs. Patented Daydream Charms. Keep those charms at home, all right? No point in getting her all randy when we can't be with her to help her out, yeah?"

"But we _can_ help her?" Bill had never looked more wild than he did in that moment. "That could be fun."

Charlie agreed. George held up a hand. "So wait. We can't give her any anymore?"

"Not 'til she's our Wife, no."

"But that's been one of our best things!" Fred protested.

Bill moved to his side and wrapped one long arm around his shoulders. "C'mon, Fred. She'll be Marked. Ours. We don't have to play those games, do we? And it really won't be fair if she isn't allowed to, you know, have a wank."

" _Girls_ do not do that," Charlie all but shouted. "No. They might fly solo, but they don't _wank_. Ugh. Bill. Obliviate me, please."

"Enough!" Bill gestured to the shrunken pile of furniture and other matters. "Let's get this set up and Ward the room."

Though disappointed that he and Forge couldn't ply their Wife-to-Be with more of their "extraordinary magic" before the wedding, Fred was quite enjoying the process of setting up their Marking room. Candles were lit and stuck carefully to the walls and floor before small stasis spells were put on them for safety. Bill brought something that looked like an enormous sofa that was big enough for them all to lounge upon. There was a table for the Rune casket as well as a few large picnic hampers that smelled fantastic.

"Did Mum make her treacle tart?" Fred asked, sniffing appreciatively over one basket.

"She did. And a few other things, too. Thought it would be nice and she said that her husbands had done the same for her."

"So," Charlie said while starting the warding near the window, "I heard that our Hermione's been talking with the Notts' almost-a-Wife."

"I've heard about the Notts," Bill said while setting out the rings for the Runes so that Hermione could choose. He wiggled his brows. "They've got rather a reputation, if you know what I mean."

"I've heard things," George said, starting on the wards opposite from Charlie. "I wonder what their Bespoke Witch is telling ours? Do they compare notes, do you think?"

"Scary thought, Forge!"

"You know it, Gred!"

* * *

 ** _New House, Evening_**

 _I'm shaking_ , Bill remarked to his reflection as he passed his wand over his jaw. _Actually shaking. Glad I don't use a straight blade razor or some such. I'd be dead by now._

Sunset wouldn't be happening for a couple of hours, but he and his brothers were preparing for the arrival of their Bespoke Witch. He and Charlie were sharing one of the bathrooms on the first floor and the twins were sharing the one on the ground floor. Sleeping arrangements had yet to be determined, but for tonight, he was pulling for setting Harry up in the ground floor bedroom—it was small, but it was also on the opposite end of the house—while the rest of them stayed in the studio-slash-Marking room for the night. Then, they'd give their witch a tour of the place in the morning and she could choose her room, leaving the rest of them to divvy up the remaining rooms.

Thinking of these details didn't help Bill's nerves, though. It was ridiculous. He was a curse-breaker, by Merlin's pants, and he faced Dark Magic and frightening hexes as a matter of course. There was nothing _frightening_ about Marking their Bespoken One.

Neither were there any books on technique. He had had to go to Arthur for the how-to on that.

 _"First, let her choose her Rune," Dad had advised. "Then, eat and relax together." Arthur had turned red up the throat as he went on to share the best way to prepare their Wife-to-be for the Marking. "You haven't had much time to become comfortable with one another; we had more time with your mum."_

 _"Did_ not _need to hear that, Dad."_

 _"All I'm saying is that you should watch her for cues. You haven't, er, had time to_ do _much together, eh?"_

 _"No."_

 _"Right, then. Well, this is the best way, then." And he proceeded to offer suggestions._

Those suggestions had Bill tense, eager, and terrified all in one. He stared at himself in the mirror. _You can do this, William. You can. They're counting on you. All of them_.

Which was ridiculous as none of them had done any of this before, but there it was. Fred and George had an easier time of it with her, after all. They'd gone to school together. She was more comfortable with them.

But he was senior. And so the responsibilities fell to him, as did the right of their first night.

"Bill? About done in there?" Charlie poked his head in the bathroom.

"Yeah. Sorry."

Charlie, dressed down to his pants, slung an arm over his shoulders for a moment and regarded him via the mirror. "Not going to tell you to relax, Old Man, but you look like you're about to take on a nesting dragon."

Bill tried to smile. It didn't work well. "Feels a bit like it. I mean, I want this. I do. We all do, yeah? But yeah. Nervous as hell, Charlie."

"In five years, you'll look back at this and laugh at yourself, you know that, right?"

Bill glared at his brother in the mirror, but then he looked at him. Really _looked_. Merlin, the man had scars. Bill had them, too, due to Fenrir Greyback and the fact that curse-breaking wasn't always a cerebral activity, but his were nothing like his brother's. Burns that left puckered smears of skin—dragon fire could be that way—a three-toed claw mark that scraped from his shoulder to his ribs. His forearms were both scarred enough as to have prevented some of Charlie's otherwise generous body hair from even growing on them in places. And that was just the front.

Charlie's look was patient and rather wise when Bill met his eyes again. "Sorry," Bill murmured. "I just, I guess none of us really know what your job is like, yeah?"

"It's all right. I don't really think about 'em. Part of the job. And, for the record, you're damned right that I laugh at 'em now." He grinned, eyes alight. "And I don't think our Miss Potter will be leaving nearly this kind of mark on you!"

"Ah, but I might leave one on her, before the month's out."

Charlie's eyes grew big and round. "Oooh, well, now. Hadn't thought of that. Might want to give her a heads-up."

"Yeah."

"But not tonight."

* * *

"You're here!" Fred and George said in unison as Harry and Hermione arrived in the backyard.

Harry flipped Fred the Portkey, an empty tin of Altoids® mints. "That was the plan, right?" He was wearing fighting clothes, as befit a guard. Dark trousers and a long-sleeved shirt. Boots. His robes were open, though, and he shook them. "Warm down here, you know?"

"Take off the robe then," Hermione advised. "And would you take Boudicca in for me, Harry? I want her to get accustomed to the house."

Harry nodded and took the cage with the Celtic circles on it which held the owl George and Fred had picked out for their Bespoken One. "I'll take her about with me and then put her back in her cage, 'Mione."

"Thank you."

George stepped close to her. "You're here," he said more quietly. Her smile was shy, and that made George feel all protective and everything. He took her hand, the one with the silvery runic tracings, and kissed it. "Welcome to your future home!"

When Bill called to Harry from rear door, offering a quick tour and something to eat, Fred came to Hermione's other side. "You're here!"

"Yes, I think we've established that," she said. "So, do I get a tour, too?" She looked hopeful. "I like the house. Bill sent me pictures, you know. I love that it's got a big garden and ivy. I've always wanted a house like that."

"We'll get you a tour later. We wanted to make sure you got a chance to, er, prepare or whatever you need to do."

She was wearing a dark traveling cloak that they took from her as soon as they got indoors, hanging it up on a hook just inside. Underneath that, she wore her school robes, and Fred wondered if he should be disappointed or intrigued.

He decided on intrigued. "So, _do_ you need to prepare?"

She opened her mouth and stared at them, her focus darting back and forth. "I should change. There are, er, traditions. Aren't there? Your mum said there were."

Fred and George each put an arm around her to start a slow walk toward the front room where Harry would have been told to put his gear. "There are. Yeah. But we want you to be comfortable, all right?"

She snorted and ducked her head. "I'm going to be surrounded by four handsome men, baring my chest, and you want me to be _comfortable_?"

Hearing her say it got Fred far too excited. He leaned down to kiss a bit of the skin under her ear and grinned when she made a pleased sort of sound.

Not to be outdone, George did likewise and Hermione actually stumbled. "Isn't this, er, precipitous?"

"We're good at being precipitous." Fred reminded her. He spoke into curve of her throat, just above the neckline of her robes, and felt her pulse jump under his lips.

"Mmm."

George nuzzled the other side of her face, lips grazing her cheek, her jaw. "Didn't you hear Dumbledore yesterday?"

"Mm-hmm." She gripped their robes, one in each of her hands, her breath coming heavy between them. "I've missed you."

"Missed you, too."

"Every day."

"When's graduation?"

As they were still softly assaulting her throat and face, though neither of them had kissed her outright, her answer was rather breathless, which thoroughly pleased the twins. "Not going. Getting married, you see."

Fred and George both stopped and stepped back a bit to study her face. "Seriously? Hermione, we know—"

Appearing irked, she frowned at both of them. "You don't _know_. You _don't_. Look, the ceremony will happen—and I want the umbrella you promised me—but getting married at the full moon is important to the Covenant."

She said this as if she knew it for certain, and Fred was a bit shocked. "Was that in your research?"

"Not exactly," she admitted softly. "I just, I feel it, you know? It was something I was thinking last night. See, I'd kind of planned on asking you to delay the wedding until after graduation, but—"

"It wouldn't be a problem, you know."

"Not at all. Seeing you claim all those honors? We'd be so proud." George beamed.

She wrinkled her nose and shrugged a little. "You'll still be proud of me, right? Even if I don't go?"

Fred laughed and drew her into his arms. "Yeah. Especially if we're all on a honeymoon at that point."

George watched, rather amused if he were honest, as Fred and Hermione stared into one another's eyes for a very heavy moment. Finally, their little witch shook her head. "Are you going to kiss me or not?"

"Kiss them already, Hermione. I'm starved!" Harry's direction came from the open door that led to the kitchen.

With a broad smile on her face, Hermione did as ordered, kissing Fred and George. "I feel better, now," she said, moving away from the twins and toward her brother. "You?"

"Me, too," Harry said.

They had always managed to communicate a lot with few words, even when they were younger, so Fred and George just decided they were never going to know what that little exchange was all about.

"I'll take her to get ready, you lot. See you at the Marking."

* * *

 _ **A/N: Yes. If you've been waiting for Hermione & The Weasley Men action, there'll be a little of that next chapter. **_


	25. The Marking - 15 June 1999

_**A/N: I am having SO much fun sharing this story with you. Makes me kind of sad that we're in our last week together. Special hat tip today to Mad Optimistic Pessimist for catching review #900. This is such a rush for me. :)**_

* * *

TWENTY-FOUR

 ** _New House, Beccles, 15 June 1999_**

"What do you know about the Marking?"

Seemed sensible, Charlie thought, for his brother to ask their witch before they got started. Harry was at the end of the hall in front of the Warded room, wand in hand and looking like the kick-arse Savior of the Wizarding World. Which he was.

Which, Charlie had to admit to himself, was kind of funny. He remembered the kid from the Quidditch World Cup and could kind of see that image superimposed on the taller young man who would be fulfilling a most sacred duty that night.

"We go to the Warder, Harry, and you give him gold and silver, as per tradition." Hermione didn't look at any of them as she answered, not even at Harry, but rather at a spot of vacant wall above the door. "He challenges us and you ask him the ritual questions. Then, we move to the site beyond the Wards. He can't see or hear us, can he? When we're in there?"

"No, he won't be able to detect a thing. His duty is to guard us from any outside influences."

"But if you've Warded the room, won't that do the same thing?" She looked Bill squarely in the eye for that one. "I only mean," she went on with a whisper, "that it's going to be awkward, having him right outside the room. It's _Harry_!"

Bill pursed his lips in thought. "Should we go get Dumbledore or McGonagall?"

"No!" she squeaked, her blush evident even in the fading light of sunset. "Um, no. Harry's just fine. Okay. Thank you."

"Is that all you were told?" Bill asked after she had regained her composure.

"Um. Well. I have to choose a Rune, your mum said. Or it chooses me? She said that's highly personal. And then, you Mark me with it." She bit her lip and looked into each of their faces as if searching for something. Then she closed her eyes and, all at once without a breath, blurted out, "Iwanttobepiercednotbranded."

Four freshly-shaved jaws dropped as the Weasley brothers stood, gobsmacked. Charlie swore under his breath. Fred looked as if he'd faint dead away.

Hermione studied each of them again looking almost as bereft as she might if she'd failed her N.E.W.T.s. "Is, is that all right?"

 _Frați idioți, cu toții._ (*) Charlie thought. Then, he found his tongue."Of course it is. You just, er, surprised us, is all." He grinned at her. "Piercing is pretty damned sexy."

Her large brown eyes warmed with relief and gratitude and Bill clapped him on the shoulder in obvious thanks.

"All right, then. That's what we'll do. First, you'll choose your Rune and then we'll eat."

"What about Harry? He was hungry."

"We took care of that while you were getting ready. He's fine. Ready, love?" Bill asked. Charlie couldn't see any of the nerves he knew had practically driven his brother mad earlier that evening.

"Ready."

Bill met each of his brothers' eyes. "Ready?" They all nodded and arranged themselves around their witch. In formation, with Bill at her left hand, Charlie on her right, and the twins at her back, they approached Harry Potter, who straightened up, wand in hand. He first examined Hermione's face, those green eyes missing nothing, Bill guessed.

Harry nodded, as if satisfied with whatever it was he saw in his sister. "Who approaches this site of ancient magic?"

"We are the House of Weasley, and this is our Bespoken One."

"Do you come here willingly, Bespoke Witch?" Harry asked, his tone guarded as it should be, Fred supposed. This was a very serious matter, even if they'd all known one another forever.

"Yes."

George was impressed. He'd seen these two interact over the years, but at this moment, they were no longer kids who had gone to school together and used the Marauder's Map and flown a dragon in a prank so epic that he'd admire them 'til his dying day. They were _adults_ , as they all were, bound by a voluntary sibling bond that was as magical as anything and tempered by war. The realization hit him below his heart, knocking out his breath though he was standing still.

"Do you agree to bear the Mark of this House as evidence of your binding vows?"

"I do so agree."

Bill handed over the small bag containing goblin silver for protection—something he had had no trouble procuring. Charlie's part was to hand over the bag of gold, in payment for this great service.

"Will you stand guard over this site?" Fred asked Harry.

"I will."

George was glad he had a line, too. "And will you keep all intruders and interlopers at bay?"

"I will."

Bill flicked his wand and there was a slight change to the air about them, as if a tension had been released. A tension that no one but Bill—and maybe Hermione—had sensed until it wasn't there any longer. Hermione nodded as if in silent conversation with someone.

Fred wondered if it had to do with her sensing the Covenant, as she had hinted at earlier that evening.

Harry watched them as they passed into the Warded room, then he shut the door behind them.

The Ward was renewed and Bill felt it like a live thing for a moment, compressing the air and then releasing it. "Well, then. May I take your robes, Hermione?"

She nodded and turned, happening to face George as she did so. When she moved to undo the small clasp at the front, George brushed her hands away and did it himself. He couldn't seem to breathe, even though he'd undone his own robes countless times. His fingers shook as he parted the heavy fabric. Though he didn't really want to move his hands after, he did. Hermione watched him all the while.

Fred patted him once on the back, too. Which almost made him smile. Almost.

They all stared at their witch when her robe was off and laid over the back of the huge square sofa thing that Bill had brought. She wore a pretty white dress with tiny straps that fit well around her torso, George thought.

 _Really_ well.

Well enough that, as they all stared at her, he could see her nipples harden under the fabric. _Is she even wearing a bra?_ he couldn't help but wonder.

Somehow, it was often Charlie who recovered his equilibrium first. He offered Hermione his arm and escorted her to the lounging area, around the sofa and pillows, past the picnic laid out on the floor, to the table where the Rune casket waited. "Bill? Your turn."

They all laughed, albeit a bit breathlessly. "Right. So. You're to choose a Rune, love. I've had them all prepared, so all you have to do is, well . . . "

"Hold my hand out over them. Astoria was telling me about her Marking ceremony this morning. It happened yesterday." That their Bespoken One was again blushing didn't surprise Charlie, seeing as how she'd just asked to be pierced instead of branded. The Notts _did_ have a reputation. "She said that the Rune would choose me?" She appeared to be asking each of them if they could confirm this notion.

Fred shook his head. "Sorry, love. No idea. This part is something only House Wives know about."

Bill cupped her cheek in his hand. "Ready?"

After taking a deep breath, Hermione nodded and extended her hand over the casket. "Magic," she whispered, her tone awestruck. She shook her head as her finger grazed over the first one, frowned as if in pain when she touched the second, but as she ghosted over the third, she froze and a light seemed to touch her face, all from within. "This one. This one's good."

Bill took up the small box with the Runic ring in it and nodded. "See there, rubies for the seal. These are great treasures of the House of Weasley," he said. "I can't feel the magic, but I can see that it has chosen you."

"Thank you."

"Now, we eat, all right?"

"Yes!"

Bill knew, from having spoken with Arthur, that the dining portion of their time together was solely to get her ready to receive her Rune. He chanted the spell over and over in his head as his brothers settled Hermione in to eat. "Come, lean up against me," Charlie said, sitting on a cushion on the floor, with his legs spread in front of him.

 _Real subtle there, little brother_ , Bill thought with a smile, his inner chanting temporarily suspended.

Surprisingly, Hermione settled in the V of Charlie's thighs with a minimum of fuss and crossed her bare legs under the soft white skirt of her dress. They'd all kicked their shoes off, so there were no hard toes or pointy heels, which was a good thing.

Bill hunkered down as well, with the Rune in the pocket of his robes. "Finger food tonight, love. What would you like?"

They all took turns offering her nibbles of food. Miniature quiches with flaky dough, baby carrots, grapes, strips of succulent roast beef. And something else with melted cheese inside a fragile crust that, when she bit into it while Fred held it for her, softly exploded so that the cheese dripped down her chin. That she moaned with pleasure at the taste—it was quite savory as Bill found out less than a minute later—made all of his brothers shift uncomfortably. He was fairly certain they all had raging hard-ons at that point.

Charlie looked like he was in the most blissful pain imaginable, with Hermione wedged right up between his legs.

Fred swallowed. "Just hold still, love. Let me get that for you." She did as he said, her eyes half lidded as she followed Fred's movements. Bill watched, in pleasant surprise that he felt no jealousy whatsoever, as Fred licked the melted cheese from Hermione's chin before covering her mouth with his.

After that, it just got too hot to concentrate. Charlie closed his arms around her waist and ribs, Fred kissed down the left side of her neck and shoulder, George took her right, and Bill pushed the forgotten food aside and came to crawl right in front of her, tasting her lips and feeling one of her hands on his jaw.

"You, oh, _this_ is what the Weasley Stake smelled like," Hermione murmured, when her lips were temporarily free. "Your Covenant." She smiled, sinking even further against Charlie, her body completely responsive. "Smelled like you. Like all of you, together."

Fred's voice was husky. "What do we smell like, love?"

"Mmm. Men. Hot skin. A shower. It's . . . sexy . . ."

George bit his lip, his skin flushed. Bill fought his instincts and did his best to maintain his focus. Fred whimpered against Hermione's skin and Charlie, Charlie was thrusting subtly behind her. Bill approved, because Hermione was becoming a pretty rosy shade and getting damp, all over.

 _Make sure she's ready. Follow her cues. Make sure she's ready. Follow her cues._

He pulled back to study her face, knowing he could _not_ lose himself in the moment. Not yet. There would be a time for him, but that wasn't yet. She leaned back, following him with her eyes while she rubbed Charlie's thighs before moving on to Fred and George's chests and arms. They continued to kiss and caress her over her clothes but Bill could see she was getting restless. Aroused, he reckoned, as she slowly stretched her legs on either side of Bill's bent knees.

He rubbed her ankles, working his way up her legs and she spread them a little further apart. His brothers were mumbling her name against her skin and Charlie moved to brush her breasts with his thumbs, so that she moaned in a way none of them had ever heard before.

 _Right, so I think we've reached getting ready_.

Her cues. She was moving her legs restlessly and George got brave and slipped his fingers under her dress, dragging his hand up her thigh, taking her dress with him. Hermione gasped a little and bent her knee a bit, providing better access.

Bill leaned in again, deliberately bringing his hand up between her thighs to their apex. The goal, as he understood it, was to see that she achieved an orgasm at the moment he Marked her. And since he wasn't going to be branding her, it might be a little harder to aim. Still, they would try.

She was all hot and damp and moved even against the slight brushing of his fingers against her knickers. "Oh, sweetheart," he murmured as he brushed her lips with his. "You're incredible." Then, he reached around her to get Charlie's attention. _Ready?_ he asked silently.

Charlie nodded and Fred moved to push the strap off her left shoulder as Charlie slid the zipper of her dress down to her waist. George went to work on her knickers.

Which was when Hermione stilled, mouth open, eyes shut. "Is it time?"

Bill tried to sound like he wasn't three seconds from losing it all over himself. "If you're ready."

"Good. Good. Yes."

 _"How do we, you know, make her come?" Fred had questioned when they had made themselves talk frankly about it. It was one thing to tease and fantasize, which they had done over the past several months, in passing or just because they_ had _to talk about her._

 _Addressing the very serious and important issue of how to get a Muggle-born virgin without experience comfortable in the midst of four men who all wanted to be involved with giving her a serious orgasm was actually a lot more uncomfortable than they all had thought it would be._

 _"You sit here, I sit there, you do this, he does that. We'll look like bloody idiots, we will. Like, like frogs trying to dance!"_

 _"Gred, your words need work," George had chided him. "But I understand what you mean."_

 _"Maybe we need a diagram?"_

 _"Cor! Color-coded!"_

 _Bill had eyed the twins narrowly. "Are you making fun of our Bespoken One?" Her revising schedules were infamous._

 _The twins had gone pale in a heartbeat. "Sorry," they murmured._

 _In the end, they'd resorted to going to a Muggle bookstore and finding a book_ without _moving pictures._ Playwizard _seemed inappropriate to really study when they were genuinely looking for advice about how to pleasure their very special witch. She'd die if she found out they'd spent time in those publications. But she'd always been fond of reference books, so . . ._

 _They had to be able to look her in the eye, after all._

Bill pushed back a bit to retrieve the Rune while his brothers exposed first her left breast, then her right. Bill could hardly look away from those perfect handfuls of flesh. Charlie grazed her throat with his teeth while Fred concentrated on kissing her and George performed a nonverbal _Diffindo_ under her dress before he slid her magically sliced knickers out from under her.

"Oh, Merlin, gods . . ." She thrust her chest up and Charlie cupped her breasts, tugging on their peaks and mouthing her neck. Fred made sure she didn't scoot away while he kissed her and George was watching her face as he fingered her, the movements of his arm giving him away.

Bill fumbled to open the box and almost dropped the Rune. He caught one of Hermione's hands in his and Fred moved, to bend and suckle on her left breast. Bill barely noticed. "Sweetheart. Hermione." Her eyes were glazed with passion when she opened them. "You'll need this to be able to close it once you're Marked."

She nodded. "O- okay."

Charlie was sure he was going to come in his trousers and embarrass himself any second. "Are you ready, love?"

"Merlin, please, yes!"

Bill still held off, waiting for something he had never seen but hoped that he didn't miss when it was right in front of him. Her skin was flushed in the light of the flickering candles, her breaths were gasps of air, damp with obvious desire, her hips were rocking into George's hand, and then, he saw her fists clench and unclench, one on Charlie's thigh, the other on Fred's robes.

She might have reached a target, Bill supposed with a grin, as Fred moaned quite loudly.

"Ohhhh…" She drew out the sound, calling and begging in one. " _Please_ …"

Charlie embraced her as Bill took the nipple ring and held it to the straining bud on her left breast. He repeated the spell he had studied and practiced, even though he hadn't thought he'd be using it that night, and there was a flash of light and a feeling of completion in his chest. Finality. A sense of coming home that warmed him all over just as their witch came, moaning and thrashing her head back and forth against Charlie's chest, her legs straight and toes curled. "Ohhhhhh!"

Neither Charlie nor George were proof against that sound and Bill could see their faces strain with that tell-tale expression that meant they would need a quick clean up in a moment.

Their witch sagged against Charlie at last, her body entirely relaxed, her smile full and sleepy. Bill traced one finger around the unsealed Rune. "Hermione, cap the ring, sweetheart."

"What? Oh." Blinking, she peered down at her chest and then at her right hand, where she had managed to keep the end of the ring secure. She aimed and closed the Rune. There was a faint sound that was as much felt as heard, he thought, before she offered him a thoroughly satisfied smile. "That. Was. Amazing."

Charlie laughed into her hair. "You can say that again."

"That was amazing!" she repeated, along with the twins. "So, are there afters?" She blushed and looked around at them all.

George slowly licked his fingers. "Mm-hmm."

The treacle tart was quite forgotten, but each of the Weasley wizards came to learn that their Bespoke Witch tasted far better than they could have dreamt of imagining.

* * *

(*) Romanian - Idiot brothers, all of them. - Updated translation! My thanks to lauraceatraznita.


	26. The Wedding 25-28 June 1999

_**A/N:** I have jumped us ten days. During these days, you may imagine hardworking Weasleys at their various professions, popping off to Hogwarts to see Hermione, Harry, and The Girls as they are able to do so. (Twins make it over often, while Charlie is mostly absent. Bill is in-between. Boudicca does a prodigious amount of flying.) Snogging happens. Just not here. Here, we're moving to The Big Day. Why? Because that's where the fun is. _

* * *

TWENTY-FIVE

 ** _New House, Beccles, 25 June 1999_**

"We're probably going to want to add on. Another floor or something, you know. In a few years." Fred remarked while he and George set up their bedrooms.

"Kids, yeah." They exchanged an anticipatory grin.

"Think there'll be twins?"

"Well, a set like us is just good luck, you know."

"We're lucky blokes, I'd say."

"Gred, we're the luckiest."

They'd learned long ago that they could permanently transfigure beds from smaller to larger versions, so that's what they had done for theirs. From the long singles to beds big enough for two, Fred and George had been set in charge of furnishings for their various bedrooms. But when it came to Hermione's room, they'd taken her shopping, along with Harry, and gone brand new.

 _"She'll need a big bed to, you know, share with us," Bill had suggested. "And Harry's told me that he and the girls have already started on her trousseau. So make sure there's a wardrobe and chest of drawers. She'll tell you what she needs, I'm sure."_

 _Fred had eyed the then-empty master bedroom of their new house. "Maybe we should bring Ginny, too."_

 _The clothes and all had started flying in, sometimes literally, shortly after that._

"Fred? George?"

"Coming, Mum!"

With a swirl of their wands, they Apparated to the dining area, where they knew their mother had been receiving gifts. "Oh, boys. Good to see you. I'm going to have to get back to your father, you know, so I wanted to bring you what you'd asked for from home." She smiled, but wiped a tear from her eye. "You know, you've all kept rooms at home, you and your brothers and Ginny. But, with her moving to Grimmauld Place with Harry and Luna and you boys moving here, well." She sniffled, but reached out to hug the twins with gusto. "It's a good thing, but it'll be quiet."

"Just you wait, you'll be finding grandbabies under the cushions in a few years," George said, patting his mother on the back.

"Oh, I _know_! Luna's already expecting and Ginevra told me she'll try to be next!" With a final shake of her head, as if at a private thought, their mum clasped her hands together and smiled broadly. "All right, so. Wedding. In order for the Covenant to anchor itself to your new family, we're having the ceremony here."

"Yes, Mum. We know."

"Right. And Hermione said she was fine with me handling the details?"

"You're the best," they said together.

"Such good boys. All of you. I can't tell you how happy I am. We've only a couple of days left, so is there anyone you want to invite?"

"Lee." Fred ticked the names off on his hand. "Verity, Forge?"

"Of course! And Kingsley. Do you think he'd come, Mum?"

"The Minister of Magic? Well, I'm sure he would, yes. For you and Hermione? Of course. He worked with you on Potterwatch, didn't he? I'll owl him directly."

"And, of course, Professor McGonagall."

Molly nodded. "Well, of course. She's one of Hermione's chaperones, isn't she? Albus is coming as her guardian. And we'll have to invite Aunt Muriel to the Reception."

"Mum! No!" The twins dropped to their knees on the hardwood floor. "Not Aunt Muriel!"

"She thought my ears were _lopsided_ , Mum," George reminded her, rubbing at the left side of his head. "And you know she won't be very nice to our Bespoken One."

"Well, we'll see," their mother said in the way that meant, _I'm having my way, boys_.

They sighed. Then, Fred pushed up to his feet. "Did Hermione give you a guest list?"

"She did. Oh, did you find her a wedding dress?"

"We did. And you would not believe the clothes coming in for her. Harry's going all out."

Their mother smiled a bit smugly. "I know. I'm helping!"

* * *

 ** _26 June 1999_**

"I feel like I haven't seen you in forever," Hermione said, putting down her book when Charlie Apparated into the Study. He grinned at her, nodded at Harry and waved to Ginevra, who was laying with her head on Harry's lap while Luna rubbed her feet.

"Hello, love," he said as he kissed his Wife-to-be with swift determination. "It's been a while. You know, that's going to be the pattern for a bit, yeah?"

She smiled and nuzzled his throat. "I know. I just miss you."

Ginny made a kissing noise. "It only took _four men_ to make the swottiest of swots a romantic girly-girl."

"Shut it, you," Charlie muttered, burying his face in Hermione's curly hair and breathing her in. "She's perfect. Always has been."

"You know, she might be able to find a Crumple-Horned Snorkack. The Ancient Magics favor her," Luna opined from the sofa. "Hermione, I imagine if you and Charlie flew to Sweden, you could see one. They are afraid of dragons, but then, Charlie tames dragons, right? If you see one, take a picture for the _Quibbler_ , will you?"

Charlie didn't know how to respond to that, so he was grateful when Hermione assured the blonde that she would bring a camera along on their honeymoon, just in case.

A silver fox blew through the open garden window, coming to a halt in front of Charlie and Hermione. "Miss Poppins, we have a present for you! Wait for us in the yard!"

"Miss Poppins?" Harry asked, pulling his glasses down to stare at his sister.

Hermione laughed and checked out the window. "They watched _Mary Poppins_ and decided I stole my beaded bag idea from her."

Only the Muggle-raised in the room laughed, but Charlie felt that was okay. Families should have inside jokes. His certainly did. All five of them moved to the backyard to watch as Fred and George arrived with a crack in the middle of the lawn. "No gnomes, here!"

Fred put a hand inside his magenta work robes. "But we don't worry about them."

"Because we can make sure our witch is safe!"

"With a spoonful of sugar!"

"And a Poppins-Brolly!"

"You'll never have to worry about domestic dangers again!"

Luna squealed and ran to the umbrella first. "Does it really fly?"

Harry ran a hand through his hair. "Luna! Sweetheart, no. Let Hermione try it first."

"Of course, Harry, but you know, I'd _know_ if it would harm the baby. It won't."

"Still, love," the bespectacled Wonder Boy said, moving to wrap her in his arms. "I worry."

"All right, Harry. I'll wait."

Charlie laughed with all the rest when Hermione latched hold of the umbrella and was immediately tugged off the ground where she hovered, going in a small circle. "Hey! What is this? I'm stuck up here!" she shouted, kicking her feet. "How do I move about?"

"Well, we're still working on that . . ."

* * *

 ** _28 June 1999_**

"I am _so_ sorry." Bill held the gift in his hands, feeling dreadful. Not only had he not even _thought_ about a wedding present for Hermione, but he had to tell her so in the presence of Harry Potter. He felt like a garden gnome.

His witch just smiled and shook her head before rolling up on her toes to rub her cheek to his jaw. He knew it was a wolf thing, and at first it had bothered him that she did that.

 _"Stop it." Bill had drawn away from her, ignoring Harry's presence in the study whilst he himself had taken Hermione just into the garden for some quiet moments. "It's not right."_

 _She had paused, looking stricken. "But, Bill. I only mean it to be something unique for just us, you know? I, I wanted to have something just between you and me."_

 _He didn't remember thinking about his scars, but he reached up to touch them anyway and flinched internally. "I hate these, you know."_

 _"They make you look terribly brave and dashing," she insisted, wrapping her arms about his middle and not letting go. "Do not disparage my senior husband-to-be. I won't stand for it."_

 _"You know, getting married on the full moon and all that . . ." He had huffed out a breath and pulled her in tight against him. Tight enough that he could feel the ring of her Marking through the thin fabric of both their shirts, which got him hot and wanting. Still, he'd held her. "I do like my steak rather rare this time of month. And I'll tell you, Hermione, that my, er, drives are strong on the full moon." He'd never acted on them, but he knew them._

 _"I have studied, you know," she'd reminded him, her voice quiet against his chest. "You will probably wind up marking me again. It's not unheard of."_

 _"How can you be okay with that? I feel like a monster, even thinking about it. I don't want to hurt you, sweetheart. Not for anything."_

 _She tilted her head back with a confident air. "Can I bite you, too?"_

 _His cock twitched in his trousers and she had grinned wickedly, pressing her body into his and rubbing against him. He swallowed, aroused and needing her badly enough to press back. He could smell the change in her body, too. She wanted him._

 _"Is that a yes?" she'd whispered._

 _"It's a hell yes_."

"You bought me a house. A whole house," Hermione said with a small gesture that encompassed the room. "And you're giving me your family. I was alone, and then I had Harry and how I have you. All of you. There is no better gift in the world, William Weasley, so just take your present and say, 'Thank you.'"

"Thank you."

They laughed softly. "Will you open it now?"

"All right."

She all but bounced on her toes as he pulled a long strip through the gift paper, ignoring the ribbon that bound it. And his jaw dropped.

There was his beauty, his almost-bride, in the shower of her bathroom in the house they had indeed bought for her. He could see her body only vaguely, as the glass of the shower door was steamed, but her marvelous mane of hair was visible—hanging in soft, wet curls as she was opening the door in the picture, as if to invite him in.

"Merlin." He didn't have any other words until: "Who . . . ?"

"Gin and Luna. So, do you like it?"

"There aren't words. And I hope to hell that Harry isn't a Legilimens because there's no way I'll be able to stop thinking about this until I get you into bed tonight."

She closed her eyes and blew out a small breath, her head falling to one side in the way it did when she was particularly aroused. He and his brothers had all experienced Hot Hermione, even when they had to follow that experience with frigid showers.

"Good," she finally said. Then, "I'd better go give the others to your brothers. Then I have to get ready for tonight. Our guests are arriving in about an hour."

"I'll be ready."

Bill stayed in the garden, staring at the provocative picture in his hands, until he heard Charlie's voice loud and clear from a window on the first floor. "Warn a man, would you?" his brother said, swearing.

Hermione's laughter followed immediately and Bill had to wonder what amazing picture she'd given to his next younger brother, or if she'd given him the same one. He kind of hoped there were four different pictures, because then they could trade them around later while they waited for her.

* * *

George was in the shower, knowing he was the last one to go and not even caring when the water went cold. He could have charmed it to be hot, but after seeing the picture that Hermione had given him privately, he reckoned cold was good.

"Promise me this will not leave this house," she had said, giving him his wedding present.

"On my honor as your Bespoke Wizard," he had sworn. And though he teased, he was also entirely serious.

That she had sent Harry to the hall right outside the door of her favorite room, the Study, while he opened it had moved and surprised George. Intrigued, he used his favorite silent _Diffindo_ to slice the ribbons so that the paper fell softly away from the framed picture within.

He'd heard Charlie's reaction to _his_ present and, if it were anything like the erotic image George held, he totally understood it. "Hermione, this is, _wow_."

"Red letter day," she said softly. "I made one of the Weasley twins speechless."

"At least, yeah." The picture was his Hermione. His laughing, brilliant witch, standing behind the umbrella, just as she opened it in front of her nearly naked body. He thought he detected a pair of black lacy knickers and a reflection of light off the Rune on her breast, but that was just for a flicker of a blink before she opened the umbrella in front of her, blocking his view. "You're such a tease!" he said at last, hoping to see the umbrella take her into the air.

Her laughter danced between them and he pulled her close, holding his gift off to one side while he kissed her in gratitude and with a promise of more to come.

Then, when he had broken away to breathe, he wiggled his brows at her. "So, what did you give the others, eh?"

"You'll have to ask them! I'm off to get ready. Less than an hour, you know."

He eyed her up and down. "You sure you'll be ready? We could stall or something."

She moved away from him and Harry came to her side to take her hand in his. "I'll be fine. Ginevra Weasley is my dresser and no one is better than she is."

"Or as ruthless," Harry whispered loudly.

"Fred!" George called as soon as he was dressed for the evening.

"I'll show you mine if you show me yours!"

* * *

It wasn't a formal affair, but Charlie was happy enough to wear the new robes he had had made for his own wedding. They had all Hoped. For years. And then they'd met her and watched her grow up a bit and had Cast for her. All without knowing for sure if she'd accept them.

At last, she would be theirs. All of theirs.

He and his brothers had greeted those who had arrived, including some near neighbors they hadn't met yet. Shaking hands, smiling, saying all the right things as they strolled around their yard with its bright summer flowers and rich green grass. There were trees, too, that cast shade on the long, narrow lawn and their mum had had chairs brought over.

"She'll be down in a bit. I'm sure she'll make an impression," he and his brothers assured their guests. While they waited, they walked about and moved to the buffet, where a light supper had been laid. Butterbeer in bottles in charmed tubs were available to pretty much all their guests and they availed themselves of the generosity of House Potter.

Kingsley Shacklebolt had indeed come to the Reception. He strode up to Bill and Charlie, where they were trying to keep their Aunt Muriel from bothering the twins. "Thank you for inviting me, gentlemen. I'll be serving in the ceremony this evening, too. It is a great honor to have been asked." He nodded at them and then said the niceties to their aunt, who eyed him as she might a hippogriff before leaving them.

Charlie wasn't going to complain. "Thank you for coming, Minister. It's an honor for us as well."

A murmur rose around them, erupting in appreciative applause. The Minister of Magic smiled his charismatic smile. "And here she is."

Escorted by her brother, Hermione Jean Potter emerged from the house dressed in the gown that her husbands-to-be had provided for her, as per tradition. Of a gauzy white silk, the high-necked dress clung to and floated over her body, tightly enough that, even though she was undoubtedly wearing something for undergarments, Charlie believed he could see the outline of her Rune and maybe even a shield under the fabric. The dress itself had little in the way of ornamentation; they knew their witch. With her hair half up and half down, curls falling over her shoulders as well as piled up in flower-bedecked tendrils on top of her head, she seemed to have grown in inches as well as in years.

One guest stopped Harry, and Hermione continued on after whispering something in his ear. Harry eyed her solemnly before smiling and embracing her warmly.

Bill thought it looked as if they were saying goodbye. That idea both gladdened him and made him a bit melancholy and he was reminded, with a striking pain, of Percy, who would have loved to have seen their Bespoken One on this day.

 _I hope you can see her now, Percy. She was quite fond of you_.

"Miss Potter," the Minister said, his voice deep and joyous. "I believe your beauty has stolen the Weasley voices this evening."

Even under the fading light of the summer sun, Hermione's blush was fully visible. "Thank you, Kingsley. Er, Minister Shacklebolt!"

Kingsley took her hand and bowed over it, kissing the air rather than her skin. "Thank you, my dear."

And so it went until sunset, just about half nine. At this point, it was his job, as senior groom, to thank those who came for the reception for their time and so on and wish them a good evening while those who would stay for the solemnities, to be held in an hour's time, would go into the house by private invitation while the yard was prepared.

Unspeakables were arriving and they needed privacy in which to work their magic.

"Where's Hermione?" Charlie asked once the changeover had occurred. Darkness had settled truly, with clouds sliding between them and the stars. The power of the moon would hold whether they could see it or not, but he would prefer the light it granted.

His brothers were in the kitchen, grabbing something to eat from the reception leftovers. Bill looked so very serious, but he was unable to answer Charlie's question.

"Is she with Ginny or Mum?" George wondered after sipping some Butterbeer.

"Is who with me, dear?"

"Mum! Have you seen our witch?"

Molly's eyes glowed but she shook her head. "Not since she went upstairs to freshen up before the final ceremony. She's with Ginny and Luna, with Harry standing guard."

"Can't beat that," Charlie said with a smile.

Shacklebolt appeared in the archway between the kitchen and the dining room. He seemed to take all the available space when he did so. "We're ready."

Those two words sent Charlie's heart pounding. _Ready_. It was time to go out there and wait for their Hermione. His mother actually giggled. "I'll go get her, you boys go on out, now."

"We're not _boys_ , Mum," Bill reminded her with a fond kiss to her forehead.

"Men, each one of us." Charlie kissed the top of his mum's thick red hair and patted her shoulder before leaving behind Shacklebolt.

George hugged her once. "Going to be married here in a few, Mum."

"Grown-ups and everything," Fred added with his own hug. He brushed his mother's happy tears from her cheeks and caught up to his brothers, who were about out of doors and in the yard.

There was a Warding that shone in the darkness, drawing power from the rising moon, Bill believed. He could see its boundaries but not beyond them into the sacred circle. He was about to approach, but he heard an unfamiliar voice—high for a man, but low for a woman—call, "All who approach must be bare of foot, for this ground is blessed by the Covenants of our Houses. The Runes are Cast."

The men removed their shoes and Bill gathered them into a pile to Banish them back to the kitchen, where he knew they'd be found later.

Kingsley Shacklebolt's tall form then blocked their way. "Relinquish your wands or leave this place."

Without hesitation, they each did so and he took them in one hand before waving them through the Wards with the other. "Wait for your Bespoke Witch within."

A short, cloaked figure beckoned to them and, once they reached her, she set them into the places she wished them to stand. "Here, and you, here. Who is senior?"

"I am," Bill said quietly, thoroughly in awe of this whole ceremony already, and hoping that he would be able to carry the entire night off without screwing up or traumatizing their Hermione.

Charlie clapped him on the back and, across a small space, he saw the twins bolster one another up similarly. Then, they had only to wait.

Guards stood at the entrance to the Wards. Bill could vaguely see the white form of their Bespoke Witch approaching. _Here she comes, then. C'mon, William, stand up straight and speak clearly_.

"The House of Weasley awaits its Bespoken One."

The others within the Wards chanted, "The House of Weasley."

"We bring the one of whom you speak," called the voice of Headmaster Dumbledore. "She took the Stake and bears the Rune. Will you grant us entrance?"

Shacklebolt once again came forward. "Relinquish your wands or leave this place."

Fred was smiling in spite of the jangling nerves dancing under his skin. She was coming to them. She was! They would be wed in just minutes and she would be theirs and—

"I will not give up my wand! I will not give up this witch, either! She has to marry me and you have to let me back into the family!"

* * *

 _A/N: You knew we weren't done with him, right?_


	27. The Wedding, Part 2

_**A/N:** With my thanks to **Katmom** again for shoring up my "Does this work?" issues. She's awesome. Thanks, too, to **MrsAngelPotter** for her idea. I had to use it, even though the story's been finished for weeks. _

_Thank you so much, Readers of Awesome, for hanging with this_ **The Bespoke Witch** _AU. Special tip of the hat today to a GUEST who caught review #1,000! Thank you, whomever you were! :)_

* * *

TWENTY-SIX

 ** _New House, Beccles, 28/29 June 1999_**

Chaos erupted, but no one fired a spell as Kingsley had all the wands save the one the Weeded One of Weasley was wielding, its tip thrust under Hermione's jaw in a clear threat that held just about everyone motionless.

Charlie and Bill charged down the grassy path to where the Minister of Magic stood, his own wand pointed at the man who had been their brother. "Let her go, son," Shacklebolt said, his tone calm but authoritative.

"I won't! She was supposed to be mine, not theirs. She knew she was supposed to wait, didn't you, 'Mione?"

Hermione spoke calmly, despite the threat at her throat. "Ron, don't, please. We were friends, weren't we? But you, you didn't Cast with your brothers and they have claimed and Marked me. You, you didn't want that, remember?"

He seemed to ignore her words. "Let me in. Let me through the wards. I'm a Weasley, too!"

Hermione stiffened at that point, her eyes rolling back in her head and her body going limp in Ron's dangerous grip.

" _Expelliarmus!_ " Ron's wand flew through the air to Harry's outstretched hand.

Then, their little sister, Ginny, dashed to Harry's side and flung out her hands. "Ha!" she shouted in triumph when the infamous Bat Bogey Hex erupted from Ron's face, the disgusting discharge flapping wings and making Ron scream like a little girl and drop Hermione entirely, cursing Ginevra the entire time.

"What the hell?" Charlie growled and moved to push past the guards, but Dumbledore, who had given up his wand, had it again.

Having caught Hermione in a magic field, he levitated her past the guards and into the protection of the Wards. "Careful with her, Mr. Weasley," the Headmaster advised in a calm manner that belied his sharp focus.

Kingsley would have Stunned Ron, but a voice, dark and ageless, rose from the Wards themselves.

"Who dares encroach upon the Covenants? We do not recognize him."

Bill and Charlie caught Hermione as she was lowered from above them. She awakened once she was in their arms and they kept her between their bodies, moving only when Fred and George came to be human shields, too.

"He is the Weeded One from House Weasley," another bodiless voice announced.

Chills possessed Charlie at that point and his breath stuttered in his chest. What was happening?

Hermione, though, tilted her head as if she recognized the voice. "He will not turn me, do not worry."

The voice was now accompanied by a Presence. Not a shadow, but rather a thickness of air that moved toward the cluster of Weasleys within the Ward. "You are well guarded, Little Bespoken One. Bind yourself to them and let us end this."

Harry, Kingsley, and Dumbledore all converged on Ron. Charlie could see that Ron had been stunned, bound, and petrified. He wouldn't be coming after Hermione again that night. The last bats from Ginny's hex disappeared into the darkness.

Charlie returned his attention to their bride as his heart slowed. There hadn't been many people within the Wards, he supposed, but they had all formed a half-circle about him and his brothers and their brave witch. They moved back to where they had been and Charlie tried to do the same. That his father caught his arm and half dragged him back to the robed Unspeakable helped. Hermione was parted from them again for the Ceremony.

"Where's Harry?" Charlie couldn't help but wonder out loud. If Hermione wasn't in arm's reach, Harry had to be there.

"Here," the Green-Eyed Slayer of Voldemort said, sounding as if he had indeed just slain his nemesis. His voice was tense, strong, and sounding not at all like the casual chaperone who was snogging Charlie's own sister every chance he got. "Go on. He's handled. No one will disrupt any further," he assured them from the boundary of the Wards.

The thick Presence circled Harry's battle-ready form, close enough that his dark robes swirled with its passing. "It is well."

Unease was nearly tangible as all those within the Wards, men and women who had fought Dark Magic and triumphed, shuddered before the manifestation of Covenant Magic. The Unspeakable spoke again. "Bring the Bespoke Witch, then, that Weasley may claim its own."

Still not entirely recovered from the shock they had endured, the Weasley brothers all stood in breathless awe as Hermione reached them.

"We gather under this moon to witness this joining under the protection of the Ancient Magics. Weasley, is this the witch for whom you Cast? Is this the one who bears your Mark?"

Taking a deep breath, Charlie said, in unison with his brothers, "She is. She is our Bespoken One."

"Witch? Do you come here of your own volition?"

Hermione shook her shoulders once. "Yes."

"Come, then, hear the vows of your House."

Hermione, her back straight and steps sure, walked through the gathered witches and wizards to draw even with them and they made room for her.

"If you will have this witch, she is yours," the Unspeakable intoned.

"We will have her," Bill said, smiling a little, pride lighting his gaze.

"And how will you keep her?"

Vows they had already spoken brought Charlie further assurance that all would be well.

Bill gazed on her with his heart in his eyes. "She will live in a house that will give her comfort."

Charlie heard his own voice, strong and proud, which made him smile. "We will hold her in esteem before all others, giving her our very best for the rest of our lives."

Fred's chin was high. "We will give her children, our House's pride."

"We will share our bed with her and she will bear our Mark." George's focus slipped to Hermione's breast, where they all remembered Marking her as theirs. She did, too; it was clear in how she puffed out a telltale breath.

Their officiating Unspeakable asked her next question. "Will you be kept this way by the House of Weasley?"

"Yes."

"Will you follow its Covenant?"

Hermione again seemed to be listening to something only she could hear, her brow furrowed and lips pursed. "Yes.

"Will you keep the traditions of the Ancient Houses and teach them to your children?"

"Yes."

"Join hands."

The five of them came together in a circle with their hands joined in a twisty knot, rather like they'd done at their Binding. The Unspeakable stood between Charlie and Hermione and wrought an intricate design of a spell in the air over their joined hands so that golden darts of light shot around them and curled over their fingers. Charlie could feel the magic of it warm him under his skin. He looked at his brothers and his Wife and saw them all smiling as if the same were true for them.

"A House is founded on its warriors and furthered by its Wife. Who takes up the burden of care for this witch?"

Charlie smiled at Hermione where she stood next to him. "We will provide all she needs, body and soul."

"We will support her in all her endeavors," Fred vowed for them.

George promised, "She will know our secrets and our love."

Charlie still thought Bill had the most provocative line. "And her pleasure shall be ours." He remembered the night when that had been true, theirs in a plurality, when he himself had lost it without even his own hand, just because of her body pressing into his.

"Will you be cared for in this manner, Bespoke Witch?"

"Yes," Hermione said, sounding determined.

"Between the earth and the waxing moon, these vows are sealed, and the Covenant of this House draws nigh. Weasley, accept the blessing of your Covenant."

The Presence that had manifested when Ron had attacked Hermione had never left, and it came to the fore again, hovering over them. This time, the voice seemed a bit amused, but protective. "Well, I see you have not run away."

Charlie choked but didn't dare interrupt. His brothers stared at their witch, all of them with wide eyes. From the entrance to the Warded area, Harry pushed his way through the onlookers, still carrying his wand. No one had even thought of asking him to surrender it.

"Here is your sibling, too. He is welcome here. He will join the House of Weasley as well. We have seen it. You will bring strength to this House, Bespoke Witch. You will trust me and I will prosper you. So shall it be."

"Only as long as you prosper this House," Hermione said, sounding as forceful as she ever had, as if she had _conversed familiarly_ with their Covenant many times before. The mere idea gave Charlie goosebumps and he fought not to shiver.

"Now, accept the Blessing," the Presence said.

Even the Unspeakable had nothing to say as the Covenant of House Weasley lifted higher into the air and spoke. "This witch is our own, to be recognized and protected by all the Ancient Covenants. Harm her and bear our wrath."

The Unspeakable threw back her hood and inserted herself into the cluster of newlywed Weasleys. "Take her to bed and make her yours. She's a powerful magical conduit and must be firmly aligned with the Sacred Twenty-Eight."

She then looked around at all the witnesses. "What has transpired here may go no further."

"We swear upon our magic," the witnesses agreed.

* * *

 ** _29 June 1999_**

It was past midnight, and Fred was trying to find his balance after Bill took Hermione from the Warded area of their own backyard. He had watched his Wife thank her new mother-in-law, father-in-law, and even the Headmaster and Professor McGonagall. Then, she had hugged her brother for several long moments, the two of them speaking so quietly together that no one heard what they said. Harry kissed her cheek and brought her to Bill, with a solemn nod.

In his turn, Bill had brought her to him, Charlie, and George. "Go on, say goodnight," their eldest brother told her.

She had, hugging and kissing all of them, with promises to see them soon. Charlie had caught her chin on his finger. "Not too soon, love. We've got time."

"But not too long," Fred said."We'll be waiting!"

George winked, cheeky bugger. "Waiting with our wedding presents from you."

Then, they were off and Charlie put an arm around Fred and George's shoulders. "So. Now what?"

Fred grinned. "I vote for Firewhisky."

"And I want to see the picture that made you swear, Charlie," George declared with a smirk.

Wands were redistributed, with Shacklebolt telling them that he'd already returned Bill's and Hermione's to them. "And congratulations to you, gentlemen. Tell your Wife that my door is always open at the office if she decides she wants to work in the Ministry."

"She's still trying to figure out what she wants," Charlie said. "N.E.W.T. scores aren't out yet, of course. Graduation isn't until, er, tomorrow."

"I'm guessing she won't be at Hogwarts for that?"

Charlie grinned. "Not if I have anything to say about it!"

Saying goodnight to their awestruck guests was the duty of the Not-Senior-Husbands, Fred supposed, so they did their job and got everyone off fairly. When only their parents, Gin, Harry, and Luna were left, they went back inside. Fred was relieved as the grass was already getting damp with dew and he wasn't a fan of wet toes.

"Guys, I am really sorry. I mean, of all times for me to let you down." Harry was standing just within the house, slumped over, his eyes dull and his face more pale than usual. "I don't know how he got here."

George crossed his arms. "What the hell happened?"

Fred forgot all about his toes. _Hermione is okay_ , he reminded himself. "And what happened to Ron, anyway?"

"I just spoke with Kings," Harry said, rubbing the back of his neck. "Ron had been released from St. Mungos a while back, in good health and all. He was supposed to be off finding work and a place to live. But he went back to Hogwarts."

Fred ground his teeth together. "Let me guess. He caught up with Hagrid." The half-giant was a good man, but he couldn't keep a secret to save his life.

"Appears that way, yeah. I didn't know, of course, so I figured once Hermione reached the Wards, she'd be fine. I went off to do a quick check around the yard to make sure no one else was coming, you know?"

"But he was already here?" Charlie guessed.

"Reckon so."

"Where is he now?" Fred wanted to know. Out the corner of his eye, he could see his parents, listening hard.

"In Holding, at the Ministry. They're considering exile, one of the Aurors told me. No one actually got hurt, after all, and he didn't cast a spell."

"Damned good thing, too," Fred and George said together.

Fred cleared his throat. "All right then. Thank you. Uh, Bill was s'posed to give you a token of our appreciation?"

Harry laughed, relaxing at last as his face went slightly pink. "Yeah. He did, thank you. Muggle books, yeah?"

Fred met each of his brothers' eyes and they laughed and laughed. "Check out page 394, Harry."

"Oh, I plan on it!"

Within a quarter of an hour after that, the house was still. The brothers had made an agreement that, on their first night each with their witch, they would ward the bedroom with a noise buffer so that sound could not escape the doors or walls.

It seemed only fair.

"So. Firewhisky?"

"And pictures!"

"And cards."

"Any leftover treacle tart?"

"I don't know about you lot," Fred remarked while bringing out the Wedding Night Ogden's that they'd purchased in advance. "But I think I might just bunk in the Study tonight. Transfigure some cushions or something."

"Sounds like a good idea to me," Charlie said. "So, get your pictures and get back to the Study. Last one down has to check the yard for rubbish in the morning."

Fred and George "cheated", Apparating everywhere and placing their sexy presents from their Wife against the nearest bookshelf so they could gaze upon them happily, sitting in their pyjama bottoms and sipping at Ogden's.

"I never would have figured her to do that," Fred mused. He couldn't wipe the grin off his face. "How'd she know I'd go for the sexy schoolgirl thing?"

"Maybe because every time we visited during our Consideration period, you stared at her legs?"

He didn't even blush. "That could have done it." Hermione was in their Study, in the picture she had made for him. All she wore was a short pleated skirt and Gryffindor tie about her neck, loose and swinging as she held a book in front of her breasts while she perched in an armchair, knees together, bare of leg, with amazing high heels. She turned to swing her legs over the arm of the chair as the picture moved, so that he could see the curve of her breast, but not its peak.

"The girl is such a tease," George decided.

"Well, it's only a tease if she doesn't follow through."

"Bet she's following through right now, yeah?"

Charlie arrived late, his picture in one arm and his pillows and such in the other. "I know, I know. I'll clean up in the morning."

Fred pointed at the framed picture, which was facing away from them. "So, did you get the _Promise me it won't leave this house_ lecture?"

"Of course not. She knows I'll be living in Romania a lot of the time." He tossed his pillows to the floor. "She did give me the _Keep it hidden or you'll never father children_ directive, though."

"Show us!" the twins demanded with identical grins.

With a great deal of drama, Charlie stood between his brothers and the sexy wizarding portrait his Wife had given him. "You're going to lose it," he predicted.

"You swore loud enough to wake London," Fred retorted.

"Come on!"

"All right. There!"

"Merlin."

"That's?"

"Our Hermione?"

"Bloody warn a man, will you?"

In the picture, their darling Bespoken One, their innocent not-yet-a-graduate, was standing naked save for tall dragon hide boots. She had one leg up on a small stool and was bending over to do a buckle on the ankle adjustment for the boots. And though she didn't have a stitch on, the viewer couldn't see anything except fire-lit skin and all those slopes and curves. Then, she straightened up and pointed her wand at the viewer with a dangerous smile on her face.

"You bloody well _better_ keep it hidden up there in Romania, Charlie."

Charlie opened his mouth to answer but suddenly the silence in the house was broken with two voices.

"Bill, oh Merlin, yes! Yes!"

"Hermioneeeeee!"

"Ohhhh!"

George, who was still staring at the erotic images on display before them, asked in a deceptively calm voice, "All right, why didn't someone figure out that her bedroom was right over the Study?"

"Show off!" the brothers yelled at the ceiling. Then, they layered their own muffling charms.

Fred finished off the rest of his Firewhisky. "Wouldn't change a thing."

"But Charlie? Ward the floor too, all right?"

The dragon tamer laughed and got to his feet. "I will. I'm for tea, I think. I don't want a hangover come morning."

He made his tea and drank it in the kitchen. As much as he loved them all, he was used to being alone at night. It had been a long day and he'd talked to more people than he'd ever wanted. Knackered, he rinsed out his cup, returned to the Study, and fell asleep with the images of their beautiful, brilliant Wife taunting them before his eyes.

Just overhead, Bill nuzzled Hermione's neck, both appalled and proud at the wound he'd inflicted on her. "I'm sorry," he whispered against her skin. "Sorry for hurting you." Still, that latent lupine instinct within him growled in devotion. His mate. She was the mate of House Weasley and was marked for all to see.

"Did I sound like I was in pain?" When he pulled away, she cupped his face between her palms. "That. Was. Amazing." Her eyes were tender when she wiped some of her own blood from the corner of his mouth. "Are there afters?"

* * *

 ** _A/N: Almost a wrap, people! Final chapter: a really big helping of LEMON meringue._**


	28. Happy Birthday, Hermione

**_A/N: The following is basically four pieces of lemon meringue pie. If you're not a fan of lemons, you can figure the story itself ended in the prior chapter and close your browser. This is just dessert._**

 ** _Thanks again to Katmom for her encouragement with this chapter._**

* * *

Happy Birthday, Hermione

 ** _New House, Beccles, 19 September 1999_**

The room was large, light, and airy with pale walls contrasting with dark, walnut furniture. Pictures, wizarding and Muggle, were spaced along the walls. One of them was taken the week after Hermione and her husbands had been wed, when her brother arrived with a camera at her request. Her four gorgeous husbands surrounded her in their backyard, and she held a small token: Percy's Head Boy badge. That badge was now framed and had its own place on the wall.

She stretched carefully, feeling a husband on either side of her in her bed. She had been overwhelmed the first time she'd seen the superking mattress. At two meters long and just short of that in width, it had seemed as big as a football pitch to her at first. But then, she remembered she would have four husbands and they all had to fit somehow, didn't they?

Except it hadn't exactly worked that way. Though married for a little more than two and a half months, Hermione had yet to share this fantastic bed with all four of her men at the same time.

 _"We're really sorry," Bill had murmured when she'd brought it up in what she'd hoped was a casual, non-whinging manner the month before. "It's not what we meant to happen, you know. We talked about it, actually."_

 _His blush, she had thought, was adorable. Naked and post-coital, Bill Weasley could still blush and she thought that was just perfect. "You did? Talked about it?" She had scraped her nails lightly over his chest, watching his nipples harden. "You talked about having sex with me?"_

 _He clasped her wandering hand in his. "Yes, damn it. All the bloody time, it seemed like, while we were in Consideration, especially." His smile was crooked and it had nothing to do with the rakish scars on his face. "You have no idea, really."_

 _The only time all four had been with her had been on the night they'd Marked her with her Rune, and she could remember how very orchestrated that had been. "Maybe I can imagine," she'd murmured into Bill's shoulder._

But this morning, the morning of her twentieth birthday, Bill wasn't home. And Charlie had sent her a birthday present and an apology, promising to make it up to her. "Soon, love. I was thinking of another ride!" he'd written.

The idea warmed her considerably and she smiled as she wiggled her toes. On a dragon with Charlie Weasley, flying without a chaperone . . .

"Morning, 'Mione," Fred mumbled, tugging at her with one arm.

George was on her other side and he snuggled up closer so that stretching was out of the question. He pushed her hair aside and nuzzled her neck, gently pressing his teeth where Bill had bitten her on their wedding night. The sensation, when combined with four hands suddenly all over her skin, sent a jolt of heat right through her and she moaned.

"That sound," Fred whispered. "I can't get enough of it." He slid one hand to her upper thigh, drawing it over his hip and George moved to touch her between her legs. Fred kissed her, slow and sweet while his twin lazily stroked her from behind. Slowly, slowly.

She was accustomed to them being with her in the mornings; this was not an irregular way to wake up at all. Fred and George were the men she counted on to be home for dinner, to pick up some ice cream on their way, and all those domestic things. She popped in on them when she went to Diagon Alley to meet Ginny for lunch or when she had an interview at the Ministry.

The perfect job, though, had not surfaced. Hermione had wondered if she'd have to create her own.

Her birthday morning was not the time to consider jobs, however. She was far too occupied with stroking both her husbands, loving the sounds they made as they started thrusting into her hands, their languor left behind as they sought friction and she aimed to provide it.

All at once, though, they stopped. At the same moment. She sighed and rolled over to her back, compelling them to scoot over. They were still involved with their inevitable, nonverbal communication. Though it sometimes annoyed her, she had grown used to it and, indeed, had benefited from it on more than one delicious occasion.

So she waited.

After a moment, with a twinkle in his warm brown eyes, Fred pushed himself away from her and George and rolled off the bed. She attentively watched him as he bent over to retrieve his pyjama bottoms from the hardwood floor.

"See something you like?" George asked with a chuckle.

"Every single day. Thank you both." The truth of that was bittersweet, but Hermione reminded herself that her other husbands would return to her as soon as they could and she could ogle them, too. Until then, her twins did everything they could to make up for their brothers' absences. "Where're you going, Fred?"

"To get breakfast in bed for our birthday girl," he answered as he adjusted the waist of his plaid flannel bottoms. "Be right back."

As soon as they were alone, George pounced. "Must be my birthday," he whispered against her skin, "because I'm the lucky man in bed with the most beautiful girl in the world."

Once, such a compliment would have made her uncomfortable and she would have shrugged it off or negated it in sheer self-defense. But now, she _felt_ beautiful. She had four handsome men who had Hoped for her, waited for her, and loved her even when she hadn't any idea of loving them in return. And she had known Percy, who had felt the same without ever knowing she had grown to care for him, too.

So, Hermione reveled in her husband's attention, pressing her palms up his back as he slid over her body. "You feel so good," she told him.

"You're going to feel so good," he said with a grin. After a thorough horizontal snogging, he kissed his way down her body on a direct path to revisit where his fingers had been earlier. "I think you feel amazing already," he said in between flicking his tongue in an ever-contracting circle to her center. "You taste amazing, smell amazing," he went on, his voice tickling her sensitive skin, "feel, feel so amazing."

He didn't speak after that, but instead used that busy mouth of his to drive her to a quick orgasm that shocked her because it hit so fast. She was still coming down, panting, when he sat up on his haunches, bringing her knees up in the crooks of his arms. "Ready, love?" he asked, his face bearing the evidence of her still-quivering pleasure.

She nodded and he sank into her, all in one smooth plunge that had her arching and sighing his name. Watching him through narrowed eyes, she squeezed him in her uniquely intimate way and he might have growled a little. "You're feisty this morning."

She smiled, but only for a moment as he set up a rhythm that had her climbing the walls again, reaching to grip her pillows and pant out her encouragement and pleasure. "George, please, oh, please, harder! _George!_ "

They came together, but he had no actual words as he did so. He didn't use words in his most ardent moments, being brought to the most basic and erotic of male sounds. It thrilled her.

This characteristic of his was something Hermione had remarked upon their first night together. Having four husbands, she tried to pay attention to their differences and similarities (and wasn't she lucky to have so many of each to play with?) because she never, _ever_ , wanted to insult anyone by calling them by another name. Ever. This was a special concern when she was with the twins, which was the most frequent arrangement. They slept together, as a rule, when Bill and/or Charlie weren't home, and sometimes they shared her at the same time, while at other times she liked the focus of making love with only one.

"Happy birthday, Hermione," George said once he'd come back to himself and was lying bonelessly next to her, red hair damp against his forehead, one hand playing idly with her curls. "I love you."

"Love you, too, George. So much." He smiled at her and opened his mouth to say something when he was interrupted.

"Breakfast!" Fred entered her room with a levitating tray behind him. In his hands, though, he was carrying a honey pot, complete with honey wand. He waggled his rusty brows at her and wordlessly directed the tray to settle on the bottom half of the huge mattress. "Eggs, bacon, toast, and honey."

"Honey? What are you thinking?" she asked, for Fred looked far too mischievous.

"I'm thinking," he said, Summoning the small plate piled high with bacon, "of feeding you, dear Wife."

George, still as naked as he had been upon awakening, sat up and retrieved the eggs and a fork. "I'm hungry, too," he murmured, gathering up some egg on a fork. Then, he purposefully dropped it so that it landed on her belly. "Oops?"

"George!"

He bent to lick and suck it up without benefit of flatware. "Hmm?"

She swallowed. "Did it taste as good as it looked?"

"Better!"

"All well and good, Brother Mine," Fred said, "but I'm going to actually feed our Wife instead of my own face." He plucked a piece of bacon from the plate and held it before her lips. "Just a bit crispy, the way you like it," he assured her.

She licked her lips, watching how Fred's pupils dilated as she did, and nibbled at the bacon. As she chewed, she took the piece from him and got him to take a bite, too.

"I watched another Muggle movie," he confessed when he had swallowed. Putting the slice of bacon in his mouth, he moved closer to her and she bit the other end, smiling all the while.

George snorted. "Save some for me!"

"Later," Fred said around a mouthful of bacon.

The men fed her eggs and bacon and if it was a little messy, all three of them enjoyed the process of cleaning one another up. "Toast?" she wondered, looking at the bread on the plate.

Fred had sliced the toast into strips and she was all ready to enjoy this treat when George slid off the bed and found his pyjama bottoms. "I'll just get this to the kitchen," he said, winking at his twin.

"Thanks, Forge!"

"What—?"

"Shh, shh, birthday girl. Lay down and open your mouth for me."

She did so, anticipation buzzing under her skin and especially between her thighs where Fred had shifted himself. He dipped the honey wand into the pot, swirling it carefully and then whispering a Stasis spell so he could bring it to her without dripping.

With a wordless, wandless release, the honey fell into her mouth, and she swirled her tongue to catch all its flavor, watching Fred's response as she did so. He was breathing heavily, his skin flushed, and she wondered what kind of playful kink he had been keeping from her.

She bent her knees so that her bare skin brushed his sides and he flinched, making the honey miss her mouth and dribble over her lips and cheek. "Oops?" She tried to sound innocent. Really. She did.

He laughed and darted down to lick it from her and they lost themselves in a sweet, sticky kiss that didn't end 'til he pulled away and said, "Wait. I've been dying to try this."

"Honey?"

"Honey on your honeypot," he said, blushing and looking away as he placed the small wand in the waiting jar. "Just a sec." He made his pyjama bottoms disappear from his body to appear in his hand, where he quickly tucked them under her bum.

Grinning, she said, "I love magic."

"Me, too."

She watched him drizzle honey over her mound, the amber hues catching the sunlight as it fell. It was cold when it hit her, but warmed up quickly and she could feel it melt a bit and slide teasingly into all her folds and between her curves.

It was incredibly hot. Messy and damp and intriguing, so she spread her knees and lifted up to offer more of herself to her husband and his honey wand. He whimpered or something and bit his lip. "Merlin, 'Mione," was all he said before he set about licking all the honey from her body, suckling it from her center, and pulling it from her clit with eager sounds that turned her on in a big way. Her body coiled tightly, seeking that little bit extra that would make her snap and snap hard.

Her focus was solely on him, on the desperate, primal sorts of noises he was making against her skin before he slid two talented fingers into her and curled them back. More wordless "magic" that simply imparted the idea of "Come, Hermione."

She did.

Before she had come all the way down, her body still pulsing madly, Fred drew her against himself and fell to his back. He had his knees bent so she almost instantly impaled herself upon his rampant erection, but not quite. She slid just under it, rubbing against him.

"Think there's any more honey on me?" she wondered breathlessly.

He closed his eyes and set his jaw. "Not today, love. Not today. It's _your_ birthday."

"I'll remember," she promised before lifting up and sheathing him inside herself.

She'd had three orgasms that morning, and was feeling a bit tired, but Fred was happy to do as much of the work as he could, pressing his feet to the mattress and thrusting up into her, holding her upright and leaning her back against his bracing thighs. She gloried in feeling his muscles against her skin, loving how strong he was, how he worked so hard to give them both pleasure this morning. His arms bunched and relaxed, his hands with their calluses and sensitive fingers clenching and unclenching. His abdomen tightening right in front of her.

And his eyes, those warm, loving eyes were fierce with joyful determination, passion, and heat as his rhythm became erratic.

 _Erratic eroticism_ , she thought briefly, and decided to write that down. Later.

"Sorry," he gasped, "I can't—I won't make it any, oh, Merlin!" he shouted, exploding into her.

And, though she hadn't come again, she had been entirely satisfied regardless and enjoyed just riding his pleasure with him, feeling him fill her, feeling him tighten under her body, before he relaxed, skin flushed, and a bit of a sheepish edge to his smile.

"Well, happy birthday to _me_ ," she said with decided emphasis to ease his mind of any embarrassment. "That was better than any Patented Daydream Charm, Mr. Member of the Chamber of Commerce."

He was still laughing and was still inside her when she heard a pair of boots clomping up the stairs in a way most guaranteed to get her attention.

Her heart thumped extra hard. "Fred? Is that Charlie?"

He grinned. "Happy birthday, Mary Poppins. We've got a chimney sweep for you, today. Well, he probably smells like smoke, anyway." He did a quick maneuver and a gentle _Scourgify_ to clean up as he pulled out of her, leaving her in the middle of that big bed while he grabbed his bottoms in one hand and the honey in the other. "Surprised?"

"Happy birthday, Hermione."

"Charlie!"

Crossing the room to her side, his eyes remained on hers, which she didn't notice until after he'd kissed her hello. Then, he took a slow visual tour of her well-loved body. "Having a good birthday?"

"Wonderful, and even better, now that you're here."

He laughed and tossed his rucksack toward her wardrobe. "Good. Fred?" he called over her shoulder as he wrapped her up in his arms, "Do I have time for a shower?"

"You do."

Curiosity excited, Hermione fought against Charlie's encompassing embrace. "Time for what?"

"It's your birthday and it's a surprise, love."

She frowned a little, but then, she felt the Covenant curling with a latent pleasure within her awareness.

 _Fine. They are all being adorable and cute and I love them, so I will be a quiescent little House Wife and not gripe about surprises. Today._

She could have sworn the Covenant snickered.

Charlie cupped her chin in his hand and she wrapped her arms around him though he was standing next to the bed, fully dressed, and she was naked on her knees on the mattress. "All right, then?"

"You're here. Of course I'm all right."

He moved to take her face between his palms, staring into her eyes with a sort of wonder that made her heart flutter. "That's a homecoming a man can take with him, then."

Shock had her rocking back from him. "Are you leaving? Already? No!"

Laughing softly, he gathered her back against his chest. She ignored the rough hide of his coat and the sharp pinch of a fastener. Instead, she just closed her eyes and breathed in man and warmth and dragon.

"Not leaving yet, no. I just want to clean up a bit."

"I could use a shower, too," she murmured into his shoulder.

"Can't say no to that! Up you go, love!" He picked her up and slung her over his shoulder, resting a hand on her bum and rubbing it while he balanced her. She retaliated by smacking his arse, which only served to hurt her hand—dragon hide is hard stuff!—and to make him laugh at her.

But once in her lovely en suite bath, he set her gently on the vanity top and stripped. And she ogled, oh how she ogled, as each of his layers fell from his body.

George didn't use words when he came during sex. Fred blushed on occasion, though he was quite _adventurous_. And Charlie, well, he was something of an exhibitionist. "I do enjoy looking at you," she told him as his deep blue shirt hit the floor.

He leaned against the nearest wall and took off his boots. "Not as sexy as your wedding present to me," he remarked with a wicked glint in his eye, "but then I don't know if I could have done this for a picture before we got married, anyway."

"Because of the rules?"

"Because I'd have never managed to keep it together long enough to take the bleeding picture." His heavy trousers hit the floor next, followed by his underwear.

She sighed happily. "I've missed you." She eyed his powerful thighs and calves.

"My eyes are up here, love," he teased.

Blushing, she met his gaze. "I've missed them, too," she tried to say airily.

"Come here." His voice was gentle as he held out his hand for her. For all his bluster and blunt sexuality, and his willingness to scoop her up like a sack of flour moments ago, Charlie did not just jump into sex when he came home to see her. He treated her as if he had to gentle her, woo her, with careful gestures and tender affection before he ravished her all-too-willing body. Now that he was as bare as she, he waited for her to step into his arms. Scarred, they were. But she had her scars, too. He rubbed her back with his palms and she felt him stir against her womb.

She wound her arms around his neck. "I didn't think you were coming."

He winked. "Oh, give me a few minutes. I'll get there."

"Honestly, Charlie."

"No, really. You can watch!"

They laughed quietly, the sound echoing about the bathroom. She relaxed against him, just enjoying the feel of him up and down her skin. Charlie was the most hirsute of her husbands, and she enjoyed that teddy bear feeling when he held her close as he was now. "Let me wash you up, then," she said at last.

"Sounds good to me."

They stepped into the shower with its square slate tiles and gleaming fixtures. "I made soap," she told him. "Fragrance free, so your dragons won't mind it. Plus, it's kinder to Bill's nose and doesn't irritate mine."

She lathered up a flannel and had Charlie turn around so she could soap him up. She also checked for new scars. She'd last seen him a little more than two weeks ago and hoped he hadn't had anything major happen since then. As she scrubbed him down, he made pleased sounds and arched his back or offered an arm or his chest for her ministrations.

"You missed a spot," he said with a curl to his voice as he pointed to his twitching cock.

"Didn't miss it," she countered. "Just saving it for last. Let me get your hair."

While she shampooed him, she fought against a yawn. _No, I don't want to sleep. I want to welcome my dragon taming wizard home!_

She rinsed him off all over, playing in the bubbles as they sped down his body. "Mmm, this is so nice," she murmured under the sounds of the shower.

He agreed with a nod and studied her face carefully. "Let's get you sorted," he suggested.

She reached for him, sliding her hand along his heat where it brushed up against her skin with no friction whatsoever, thanks to the soap. "But, I wanted… And it's my birthday and . . ."

"And it's your birthday, so let's take care of you today, yeah?" His hands were tender as he washed her body. It was not a sexual experience, though, not this time, and she found herself growing comfortably lethargic under his care.

"You're humming under your breath," she remarked as he leaned her head back under the water to rinse the shampoo out.

He laughed softly. "Am I? Should I apologize?"

"No, I quite like it. You'll be an excellent father," she told him, eyes half-lidded and drowsy.

He froze before spinning her around under the water and doing a fine job of waking her up. "What? What did you say?"

She blinked and snorted water out from her mouth and nose. "Wait. I'm not pregnant, no. I just meant, you know, with the soothing voice and how well you do this stuff." She shook herself. "Merlin! Way to ruin my mood." She stomped out of the shower, pulling a towel from the rack and winding it about her head before taking another one to dry off her body. Adrenaline from the surprise of his unexpected reaction was shooting through her, but not in a good way.

"I'm sorry," he said, turning off the water and reaching for a towel himself. "I didn't mean to startle you, but bloody hell, woman! You can't just say things like that to a man."

"You're my husband; I should be able to say anything!"

"But I haven't seen you in weeks, love," he countered, tugging her body towel from her hands and dropping to his knees to dry her feet and legs. He was, again, caring for her sweetly and she felt her irritation slide away like soap bubbles down the drain. "And if you were pregnant, you know . . ."

A sharp, wistful sort of feeling shot jaggedly through her. "You might be the sire, of course. I'm sorry, sweetheart. I'll have more care, next time."

"Sire?" he said, evidently trying to regain a more lighthearted tone and smiling up at her while he paid assiduous attention to her bum. "Not father?"

She shrugged a little. "I imagine that when we have children, you will all consider yourselves fathers, won't you?" With a little frown, she tugged on Charlie's arms until he got to his feet again. "At least, I'd hope so."

"I'm sure we will."

She got her hair dry courtesy of a charm Ginny had taught her during her truncated eighth year and donned a silky camisole and matching knickers. Charlie watched her all the while. "What are you thinking?" she asked.

"That you're the prettiest thing I've seen since the last time I saw you. And that you still breathe fire on occasion."

"Oh, you!"

"You look sleepy, love. How about a quick kip for you before the rest of your surprise happens, yeah?"

"Can you stay with me until I fall asleep?"

"Sure."

Leaving his clothes in a heap on the floor, he crossed the bedroom to her bed, holding her hand, and then handed her up to the high mattress. She slid between the sex-rumpled sheets and smiled at him. "It's been a long time since I've slept next to you."

"I'm here for a couple of nights, so we'll make them count, yeah?"

He held her against himself and she was amused and soothed by his quiet humming.

* * *

Someone was rubbing her feet and nibbling on her toes.

Someone was dropping petal-gentle kisses to the strip of skin between her knickers and camisole.

Someone was suckling on her breasts through her camisole and then blowing on the dampened cloth.

And someone had her head on his lap and was massaging her temples.

Her eyes shot open as soon as she'd done inventory. "Bill!"

There he was, cupping her head in his hands. "Hello, love. Happy birthday."

"Surprised?" George asked from his position at her waist. He sat back from her body and grinned down at her as if he'd pranked all of England.

"Entirely," she assured them all, looking about and meeting each happy pair of eyes. Fred at her toes, Charlie pulling the strap down on her camisole, and Bill . . .

His leg was bare beneath her head and she reached up curiously. "Oh, really? Someone's ready to play, isn't he?"

Her wizards were amazing men, truly. "We all are, I think," Bill answered as they all waved their wands to close the curtains, light the candles in their sconces, set some music to play, and got entirely naked.

For that, she had to sit up and she did, tears in her eyes. "You're all here," she whispered.

Charlie, being closest and seeing the sheen in her eyes and the drops on her lashes, kissed her cheek lingeringly. "We're all here, Wife."

"Sorry it's taken us so long," Bill said from behind her as he wound one arm around her waist. She arched to rub her cheek against his jaw and his hold briefly tightened.

Fred scooted closer. "We've wanted this for a long time, too, you know."

"Scheduling's just been a bit hard," George told her.

She bit her lip. "I know." Then, with a smile, she held her arms open. "But you're all here now!"

From the looks of things, her men were thinking of a long, slow, seduction and, if they'd done this when she'd first awakened, that might have worked. Instead, she was up from a refreshing nap so she didn't feel like being seduced. She wanted to play.

She twisted sharply out of Bill's light clasp and grabbed a pillow. "Pillow fight!"

Her husbands all gaped at her. "What?" Four handsome gingers without a stitch between them looked entirely lost.

"I'm a lucky witch," she said out loud, with great satisfaction. Then, she lobbed her pillow at Charlie and the fight was on, to an extent. None of them ever left the bed, so it was fighting at close-quarters, but Hermione didn't even care. She was careful to stay away from their naughty bits, aiming for their shoulders and backs and bums, and they let her have her fun.

For a few minutes.

When one of her wonderfully fluffy pillows exploded in a display of feathers, George shook his head and pinned her to the bed. "Enough, Wife."

Fred Banished the feathers with a few motions of his hands. She almost swooned. "I love watching you do wandless magic," she said as all her husbands surrounded her again.

Charlie, without any preamble, tugged at her knickers. "You can't be the only one with clothes on, love."

"This has to go, too," Bill said, pulling off the camisole over her head. Feathers floated down as he did so and he blew them away. "So, Wife. We're all here. Like you wanted."

"Hold me?" she asked, hopeful.

With apparent unconcern for their own nudity, all four of her husbands huddled together with her in their midst. Hermione couldn't believe the amazing sensation of all that bare skin touching hers, of all the hands and fingers and lips and tongues that began their gentle conquering of her body.

"How are we going to do this?" she wondered with the stray thought that didn't dissolve under their combined attentions.

Charlie slid along until he was between her thighs, pushing her gently down to the mattress. He ran his nose from one hipbone to the other, flicking his tongue over her skin so that she shivered. "Well," he said when he'd reached his destination. "I think we'll let you figure it out as we go."

"Charlie!"

Fred laughed and nibbled at an ankle. She had had no idea before that they were erogenous zones! "Oh, Merlin, please!" she cried, wiggling until George stilled her legs.

"Don't make us Bind you, woman," Bill teased. He was near her right hand and she reached for him, grabbing his erection and stroking slowly. His nostrils flared. "Having fun?"

"Oh, _yes_."

After that, she rather lost focus. Charlie made an abrupt change of pace and dragged his tongue up her center so that she moaned and the twins shifted. She reached for another hard husbandly bit and found it. Soon, two of her husbands were thrusting in her hands while another one squeezed in to nibble on her neck and kiss her senseless.

"I love to watch her do that," Charlie gasped as he hiked himself up and entered her with a gasp. "Watching her with you, and oh, Merlin, Hermione, you feel amazing."

She came twice before he did and was handed off bodily to her eldest husband. She hardly even cared because they were all there, all four of them, all on her big bridal bed and their scents and sounds and touches had overtaken any objection she might have considered raising at being so handled.

Bill had her sit on his lap, sliding her down firmly on his cock, because he hadn't let himself come yet. She kissed him and heard Fred move behind her. He encompassed her breasts with his large, clever hands as she rode Bill.

"Not gonna last long, sweetheart," Bill murmured into her ear.

"Me, either." Fred helped, sliding one hand to her clit and circling it so that she gasped and tightened.

"Merlin!" Bill shouted that time and Hermione did what she'd wanted to do for weeks. She bit his shoulder as she climaxed. Not hard enough to draw blood, but hard enough that all her men knew it had happened. Bill swore, Charlie and George laughed, and Fred caught Hermione when she leaned back to regroup.

Bill was just staring at her, a wild awe alight in his eyes. His hair seemed held out from his head in some sort of charged field, making him look more feral than she'd ever seen him.

Fred nuzzled her throat and she wrapped her arms up and around his head. "Wow."

"Times four," George said with a smile.

"How long will you be staying, Bill? Charlie?"

The men exchanged a look. "I'm actually at Gringotts for a few days, so I'll be here for a bit. Charlie?"

"We're getting in a wounded Swedish Short-Snout Wednesday, so I've only got tonight and tomorrow night, love."

Fred and George leapt up to the foot of the bed. "How about we go see about feeding our birthday girl before she has to get herself ready for the party her brother and our sister are throwing her tonight?"

"Sounds good to me, Gred."

"Do you have to go, too?" Hermione wondered of her remaining husbands.

"Not yet!"

And, once again, Hermione found herself naked in bed with two of her husbands. "It has been a most splendid day."

"Happy birthday, Hermione."

 **~O~ The End ~O~**

* * *

 **End Notes:** First, my thanks to the beauteous and brilliant **glittergrrrl05** for writing _**The Bespoke Witch**_ , allowing me to do this AU, and for recommending it and sending her readers my way for this story.

Second: Thanks to all of you who have read, recommended, favorited, followed, reviewed, PM'd, etc. For a first fic in a new fandom, this story has been very well received, I think, and I totally appreciate you.

Third: There are no plans to do a sequel to this story. I may, cough, have other HP fics in progress (really, I write a lot of different things at one time) but nothing gets posted until it's all drafted out on my end. Just in case the muse moves on.

 _ **You've all been perfectly splendid. Thanks again.**_

 _ **LJ Summers**_


	29. Ups and Downs of Baby Making

**_A/N: Just when you thought it was safe to go to your inbox...the Weasleys are back. I know that folks kind of missed hearing about babies..._**

 ** _So for Christmas, my gift to you: Babies! (And some sex. And some tears. And a bunch of Weasley Men stuff.)_**

* * *

Ups and Downs of Baby Making

 ** _Romania, 30 June 2000_**

Charlie rolled over with a ridiculously wide grin on his face, considering the earliest morning sun was just flaring over the windowsill in his home on the Reserve. His body felt sated and sore in all the very best ways. It had been a bloody amazing anniversary celebration.

Hermione stretched, her toes inadvertently tickling him in the ribs so that he shifted. "Morning, 'Mione," George whispered from somewhere near Charlie's feet.

Fred sat up, passing a hand over his spiked bed-head. "Morning, love."

"Morning, sweetheart." Bill's murmur surprised Charlie, as it was rather near his own shoulder.

Charlie grabbed her toes. "Good morning, indeed, Hermione."

Hermione rolled up, her skin painted gold by the incoming sunlight. "You're all wrong. It's a _fantastic_ morning."

Charlie chuckled. "It was right proper of you to spend it up here, too," he opined, uncaring of his nudity as he scooted over to stroke their House Wife's smooth knee. "Especially," he added, arching to look back at his elder brother, "since the full moon's tomorrow night."

Hermione touched the healed scar she bore from her wedding night. "Some things are near to constant." Bill saw her smile at him, though, and was once again thankful that their wife accepted all of them with so much love.

Fred wiggled his eyebrows. "So? Anyone up for another round before we have to Portkey back?" He eyed their wife with warmth; none of them would ever want to pressure her, but they each knew how much she enjoyed being with all of them at once.

Even if it was on the cushioned floor of Charlie's place in Romania.

* * *

 ** _19 September 2000_**

"Where's the birthday girl?" Fred called, laughter in his voice. He'd awakened to George's feet in his face in the bedroom they shared with Hermione.

"Dunno," George mumbled, his head half under a pillow. He pulled it off and sat up. "Hermione?"

"Go 'way."

Her voice echoed from the en suite bathroom, and she sounded miserable. Fred exchanged a concerned look with his twin before rolling off the bed and pulling on a pair of lounge pants before jogging to the toilet. "Hermione! What's wrong, love?"

She scowled at him from between two tangled locks of hair as she knelt over the porcelain commode. "Go. Away," she reiterated before her eyes widened and her muscles tensed.

Fred swallowed back his own nausea to see her vomiting. She had to be ill, right? "George?" he called as he gathered their wife's hair in one hand whilst kneeling next to her. "We'll need some cool cloths in here. And maybe you could make her some tea?"

George popped in, his brows furrowed and hair at odd angles all over his head. He wore a pair of blue boxer briefs—backward. "Not again, love?"

"Again?"

"Yeah." George conjured a small cloth and wet it down with water from the faucet. "Whilst you were in Bulgaria, she started this."

"I'm fine," Hermione said, taking the cloth and wiping her face. Fred released her hair but rubbed her back in small circles. George examined her closely. "Really. I feel much better, now."

A thought occurred to both men in the same heartbeat. "Hermione?" Fred began. "How long's this been going on?"

"About a week?"

George nodded. "Just in the morning, yeah?"

Their wife's beautiful brown eyes widened in her pale face. "Mornings. Yeah." Her focus darted between Fred and George's own. "I need to see a Healer."

Unable to control the hopeful smile that pushed at his lips, Fred silently Summoned his wand from the bedroom. "Or I could do a quick test here?"

The pregnancy-detection charm produced a rune that glowed in beautiful gold for about fifteen seconds over Hermione's still-flat middle. "Oh . . ."

"We're pregnant!" she whispered.

"We're pregnant," murmured Fred.

"We're pregnant!" George shouted, his voice ringing throughout the bathroom.

And so they were.

* * *

 ** _Christmas, 2000_**

Bill grinned, holding their House Wife on his lap at The Burrow. "Can't believe it took until your birthday to figure it out," he murmured into her throat. At almost six months into her pregnancy, their wife looked pleasantly pregnant and—to everyone's delight—was no longer plagued with morning sickness.

Arthur sat across from them in the old, squishy chair next to the fire. "So, no clue as to which of my sons is the actual father?" he asked with a grin.

Bill winced. He knew Hermione was getting so very, _very_ tired of that question. Still, she shook her head, her expression pleasant. "Apparently, no. The Healer's test said I got pregnant on our first anniversary, Arthur." She smiled wickedly. "Could have been any one of your sons."

Arthur laughed. "Oh ho!"

Luna and Harry entered the lounge at that time, a blond-haired, green-eyed daughter in Harry's arms. "Oi, 'Mione," her brother said, crossing to kneel in front of her and Bill. "Can I?"

She laughed. "Sure. Come on, now, little one. Meet your Uncle Harry."

Bill bracketed Hermione's rounded belly with his hands, feeling their child roll under her skin. It never failed to make his eyes water with awe. A person was in there. A little person, probably a son—they were Weasleys, after all—who was getting bigger all the time. He saw his brother-in-law's eyes go big and round.

"Merlin, 'Mione. He's a busy bloke, isn't he? It is a boy, right?"

"A son, yes," Luna stated, settling near Hermione on the sofa and cradling her daughter carefully as she eyed Hermione's body. "He might come early, Hermione, so make sure you're ready at least three weeks in advance."

Bill blinked his tears away. "Three weeks?"

"At least," Harry confirmed. "My Luna is never wrong."

* * *

 ** _1 March 2001_**

"She was so right. Damn it, Luna!" Hermione's shout was loud enough for Charlie to hear as he reached Hermione's room at St. Mungo's. He'd only just arrived, once he'd got word from Bill that their wife was in labor.

He drew in a deep breath, his entire attention on their witch, who was naked and pulling hard at a length of rope that was hanging from the ceiling of her room. His brothers surrounded her, a female Healer attending, but mostly just watching, Charlie sensed.

Their wife was as brilliant at childbirth as she was at everything else. "Well, trust you to finish early," he remarked as he crossed the room.

Bill held up a hand. "Now is not the best time, Charlie."

Hermione groaned, her face lined in pain. "If this is your son, you're in so much trouble, Charles Weasley!"

"She's told us all the exact same thing," George confided, holding a cup of water with a straw in it near Hermione's lips.

Charlie nodded, all ideas of levity leaving him to see her in so much pain. He could see the muscles bunching in her thighs as she braced herself against another contraction.

Fred knelt in front of her, on the other side of the rope. "There you go, love. Looking amazing, as always."

"What can I do?" Charlie asked, trying to get a sense of his place in this wonderful, but obviously difficult environment.

"Walk. I want to walk."

"I got that." Charlie wrapped his arms around their wife and eased her to her feet. "Come on, sweetheart."

"Charlie, I'm so tired."

"I know you are, love."

"Why can't babies hatch out of eggs like your dragons?"

The dragon tamer had to laugh at that. "Because, love, you're so much better than a dragon. Believe me."

"Hmph."

The men took turns walking with her, holding her whilst she screamed and swore at the birthing rope, bracing her shaking back as her body fought to free its infant occupant, and keeping her hydrated and focused. And then, as the sun rose on the second day of March, their Healer sat on the floor between Hermione's knees. "Once more, Hermione."

"I can't."

"Please, love," Charlie whispered hoarsely, almost afraid to touch her as everything seemed to hurt, just then.

Bill kissed her sweat-damp hair. "Please. One more time."

"I'll owe you a full-body massage," George promised.

That got her attention. "Fine. One. More. Time!" And she shouted the final word before pushing, gritting her teeth, and growling.

"Here he is!" the Healer crowed, holding a squirming, red-faced baby in her arms.

"Finally." Hermione smiled for the first time in days and all four of her husbands surrounded her and gazed upon their son. "Percy," Hermione cooed into her son's hair. "This is Percy."

There wasn't a dry eye in the room.

The Healer cast an initial paternity test, seeing as how the exhausted fathers had no idea as to which of them had actually sired their son, and it came down to one of the twins.

George and Fred claimed pride of place, then, and snuggled up with their House Wife and son after everyone had been cleaned up and had had a bit of something to eat.

Eventually, after about a week when his magic adjusted a bit, their redheaded son was given his father's name as his middle one: Percy George Weasley.

* * *

 ** _Christmas, 2001_**

"Ginny! You're blooming!" Bill wrapped his little sister in an embrace, making room for her burgeoning belly. "How long, now?"

"Shut up, Bill," Ginny snapped, magic sparking in her long red hair.

"About a month," Harry interjected, handing his daughter, Persephone, off to her Uncle Bill and taking his wife in hand. "She's tired."

"Don't you make excuses for me, Harry James Potter!"

Laughing, Bill shifted so his niece was able to stare at the Christmas tree and pull on his hair at the same time. She was two and, though voluble on occasion, Persephone Potter was a mostly silent, observant sort.

Bill nuzzled the girl's flyaway blond hair and sighed a little. He loved his son—their son, Percy. But he was kind of getting the itch to have a son of his own. Or a daughter! A daughter would be fantastic. "You're a darling, aren't you, Persephone?"

She looked up at him, all eyes, as if understanding his most inner thoughts. Well, she was Luna's daughter. She might have the Sight, as well.

He looked up to see Charlie bouncing Percy in one arm, pointing to a flying dragon ornament on the tree. Charlie caught his eye and smiled down at Persephone.

He had the itch as well.

They needed to talk, he and his brothers.

Fred and George drew near, and the four brothers made much over the tiny cousins. "Can you just see them at Hogwarts?" George asked, deftly stealing his son and inhaling of the boy's scent.

"I can," Bill murmured. "And . . . I can see more of 'em, too."

His brothers' eyes lit at the thought and they nodded slowly. "We need to talk," Fred suggested.

It wasn't until the following month that the men were able to gather together in one place. Hermione and Percy were spending the weekend at Harry's house to stay with Persephone whilst Ginny had her child.

"House still smells like our Percy," Charlie stated, inhaling so that his thick chest pushed against his jumper.

"And our Hermione," George added, flopping back against the cushions of the broad white sofa in the lounge.

Bill leaned against the mantle over the fireplace, waiting until his brothers had gone through the usual "We're back in the same place" conversations. When they had, he met each pair of eyes, blue and brown. "So. Let's get to talking about this and see what we're thinking. I know," he went on, shoving his hands in his trouser pockets and rocking up on the balls of his feet, "that we absolutely have to ascertain Hermione's wishes on this, but I felt that it was best if we spoke first, so that there were no misunderstandings or, well, hard feelings."

George held up a hand. "Gotta say, it's been a bit odd off and on, with being the first of us to—how did she put it, Charlie?"

"Sire. She called it _siring_ , and she's kind of stuck with that. She told me, once, she used that term because she rather felt we would all feel like fathers no matter who had sired a child of ours."

Bill was relieved to see all his brothers nodding their heads. He did as well. "I do feel like Percy's dad, yeah." He couldn't help his grin. "Already, we can see how he's growing up and getting a personality and laughing." And if George looked a little smug, well, Bill figured, he'd look smug as well in his shoes.

"I want to have a child with our House Wife." Charlie's declaration was blunt and brash as the man himself, but Bill was grateful for it. "I love Percy, you know that, but part of me . . ." His voice trailed off and his gaze went distant.

Nodding, Bill concurred. "No, I get it. And I'm thinking Fred does as well?"

"Yeah."

George shifted uncomfortably. "I didn't mean—"

"Stop," the other three said in unison, their voices at varying decibel levels.

They all chuckled.

Charlie pushed himself off the sofa and he started pacing across the hardwood floor of the lounge. "So, how do we do that? I mean, there are ways, yeah?" He swept his gaze over the other men, including George. "We can check to see if Hermione wants another baby right now."

"Right. First thing," Fred said emphatically.

* * *

George sat at her right and held her hand. Fred sat nearest her left foot, Bill her right, whilst Charlie sat at her left and held that hand. They each wanted to be able to see her face clearly, and be easily seen as well.

Bill took on the mantle of Firstborn again and was about to begin when Hermione rolled her eyes.

"Honestly. What is it? The lot of you have been grinning and frowning and now you're all around me like, like children with Father Christmas."

George watched his brothers blush brightly. "Well, maybe a bit," he allowed. Percy was down for a nap, but he was listening for him.

"What do you want for Christmas, then?" she asked with a curl to her voice. "And it's a bit early, by the way."

Bill cleared his throat. "Well, we wondered how you might feel about having another baby," he said in a voice that he tried to infuse with compassion, love, and honesty.

Their House Wife blinked, pursed her lips, and blew out a breath. "Well. I always imagined we'd have at least two, or four," she added with a slanted smile.

Bill grinned at her and they all shared a light laugh. He could actually hear his brothers relaxing as they touched Hermione with gentle, affectionate strokes of their fingers against her skin. Not sexual, just loving. Even though they were talking about getting her pregnant, he actually wasn't feeling at all randy at the moment.

It was more like preparing for a tricky project, really.

Fred dragged a hand through his hair. "Well, that's lucky, seeing as how there are four of us and all of us want to be able to give you a child, love."

Hermione blushed and Fred was secretly pleased that she did so. He adored watching her skin change color because of something he said or did. "All of you?" Biting her lip, she studied them. "That makes perfect sense, of course. Might need a bigger house, though."

"Thought of that one already," Charlie said with a grin that made their wife blush again.

It got quiet and George figured the others were trying to figure out how to share their idea with Hermione. It was hard and none of them wanted to look demanding, he knew. So, he decided to push them past their discomfort. Pressing her hand between both of his, he got her to look him in the eye. "See, they're a bit wistful, my brothers. Percy's the most perfect son in the world, of course, and now they each want one."

Hermione's eyes went round. "Oh. I see." Then, after thinking for a moment, which George was entirely inclined to do, she nodded briskly. "Right, then. Much as I love being with all of you—and you know I do—if you're wanting . . . that . . . we'd have to pare down the, er, options, yeah?"

Bill, who was still sitting near one of her feet, caressed her calf and ankle, making her face pink up again and her eyes go heavy-lidded. He was, all at once, extremely desirous of absconding with her in some private room. " _Options_ , yes. But, sweetheart, we in no way want to limit you or your choices or even direct this . . . _this_. If you feel at all awkward or pushed or anything, you need to let us know. We'd never want—"

She cocked her head at him. "Bill. I know. You are the most amazing men in the world and you'd never want me to feel like a baby factory or as if I had to have children or anything. I know this. I want to try, though, to at least have one more. Maybe a few, if you behave yourselves and help me out. But," she went on, moving her focus to rest on each of them, "I'll tell you that though I love you all, I can't promise that this will work."

They all agreed and so the plan was drawn.

* * *

Charlie's first Baby Making Weekend with Hermione had been amazing. Bill stayed home as House Dad whilst the twins worked their shop, and Charlie and Hermione had escaped to the Reserve. Just the two of them.

"Are you really hotter when you're fertile or is that just me?" Charlie wondered, panting into Hermione's sweaty shoulder as she clawed at his back in naked passion.

"Stop talking dirty, Charlie, and make me come."

Of course, he obeyed with enthusiasm. As many times as she let him.

He waited for weeks after, pacing the floor of his solitary dwelling, waiting for word. They had agreed, all of them, that Hermione wouldn't have sex with anyone else until she knew she was pregnant or knew for sure she wasn't for one entire cycle, just so they'd know precisely who the father was if she fell pregnant.

The owl brought him the expected parchment a few weeks later. His heart pounded with expectation and he tossed a handful of bacon at the bird as he ripped open the parchment.

"Dearest Charlie, I'm so sorry…"

He never told her he cried.

* * *

"Good luck, mate," Fred whispered in Bill's ear as the eldest brother packed a bag for his Weekend with the Wife.

"Thanks!" There was a full moon, that night, and Bill was banking on the idea that the extra virility imparted to him at such times would help with the aim for the weekend.

But, seeing their Hermione waiting for him in a swath of silvery light on the floor of the seaside cottage they'd rented in a Muggle tourist town, he felt nothing but his own desire for her. "Hermione," he whispered as his heart jumped and his lust rose.

She smiled and rose to her knees, cocking her head so that her neck and his mark were bathed in moonlight. "Come, Husband. Give me a child."

Had she researched what to say to a werewolf to make him pounce or was it just that she knew him so well? Bill hadn't any idea as he _Diffindo'd_ his trousers and pants so that they felt in strips to the floor. Naked he went to her, naked she met him, naked he possessed her, renewing his mark on her when he took her from behind.

"Bill, please," she moaned, her body clenching around his.

Bending over, he slid one hand between her legs, continuing to thrust as he did so. She called out, gasping, and he felt every muscle tighten in fierce anticipation.

When he climaxed, Bill felt a strange, welcome peace settle over his skin. "Know what?" he murmured as he rolled them over and laved the mark on her shoulder.

She hummed and hissed, her body caressing his at every possible point of contact. "I think I do."

Their eyes met and they smiled. Weeks later, they were both proved right.

"I want to name him Daniel, after my father," Hermione stated that winter. Bill nodded from his place behind her, caressing her rounded middle and whispering his unborn son's name against her neck.

"Daniel. Daniel William Weasley."

* * *

 ** _Christmas, 2006_**

"Da! Da!" Five-year-old Percy held his stuffed Hungarian Horntail as he ran throughout the corridors of their house in Beccles. "Make him fly, Da!" Charlie knew that this call was for him, because that's how Percy called for him.

"He's your son through and through," Charlie informed their House Wife, who was dancing to some instrumental Muggle music with young Danny in her arms. "So organized, he is."

Hermione laughed and nuzzled the toddler she held, making the baby giggle. "He really is. George is Papa, you're Da, Fred is Daddy, and Bill is Father."

"Or a reasonable nickname. Keeps saying _Fa_ , too, you know."

"I know! And I keep wanting to sing that song from _The Sound of Music_."

George started dashing down the stairs just as Charlie got the plush dragon levitating nicely toward the Lounge. "Makes me want to sing it, too!" Percy's sire declared, pausing in his mad dash to kiss Hermione and Danny Boy. "You got Fred and me hooked on those Muggle movies, you know."

"Just keep the Poppins Brolly away from the boys," Hermione admonished, kissing him back.

Fred's voice echoed through the house. "Time for the snowball fight!"

"Excellent!" George shouted. He pulled Charlie off the floor and tugged him toward the rear glass doors.

As he left, laughing, Charlie turned to see Hermione, her warm brown eyes alight with laughter as she pulled on warm clothes for herself and Danny.

"My turn next," he murmured—mostly to himself—as he bent for a double handful of snow.

Fred heard him, though, and his expression was sympathetic. "Well, only because you're so much older than me," he said in a teasing voice at odds with that look. "Don't want you to lose all ability to sire a child at all, you know."

"Oh, you're on, little brother!"

* * *

 ** _March, 2007_**

Fred crept quietly into the main bedroom of their home, doing his best to make a soundless entrance. George and Percy were off on a supply run for the shop (a man couldn't start teaching his son to prank too early, could he?) and Danny was napping. Finally. Fussy lad, to be sure. There he was, all cuddled into Hermione, his curly brown hair in a soft halo against a blue blanket.

"I'm not asleep," Hermione whispered, her voice sounding strained.

Alert to her blotchy cheeks, Fred felt his own anxiety spike. Still as silent as possible, he slid in behind his wife to nuzzle her hair. "What's wrong, sweetheart?"

"I'm not pregnant. Again. Charlie's going to be so sad."

Fred's heart felt as if it had crumpled right there in his chest. He sighed with all the heartfelt compassion he had come to feel as Baby Making Weekend after Baby Making Weekend had passed without him siring a child, either. "I'm so sorry, Hermione. I really am."

"Oh, Fred, I know you are! I'm sorry. I don't mean to be so selfish. I know it's been—"

"Hush," he insisted, rising up to cover and kiss her, taking care not to disturb Danny. "No one's fault, sweetheart. We know." He felt his own eyes burn with tears as he settled behind her again. "Not like you haven't already managed to have kids, is it?'

She sighed. "No, I know. But I feel so bad, Fred."

"I can make you feel better," he said, trying to do what he could to help them both. She shifted and turned, and Danny murmured and rolled a little away. On such a big bed, though, it was clear the little lad wouldn't be in danger just yet.

Hermione met his gaze with her own, a smile coming slowly to her lips. "Oh?"

"Oh."

Casting an air-permeable shield charm around their son, Fred found himself slowly rising to the occasion.

No babies resulted, but he knew the satisfaction of a job well done when Hermione embraced him and fell asleep in his arms.

* * *

 ** _January, 2009_**

"Have you considered a fertility rite?" Bill pressed his lips together as he held Hermione's hands in his. Hers were cold and trembling and tears dripped to them, running between their twined fingers.

She sniffled and looked around. They were in total privacy, having the house to themselves. His parents had the boys for the afternoon, as Mum missed little ones around the place. Today, all the kids were invading the Burrow. Charlie was drinking in Romania, and the twins were scouting a new location for their shop. Bill had the day off, wonder of wonders, and he had come out of the shower to find Hermione curled up on a ball, hands over her womb, crying.

He hated to see her cry. They all did.

"I had, yes, but—but I didn't know which would be safest for the time of year."

Bill found a smile and put it on to share with her. "You're looking at the Master of Arcane, Mrs. Weasley."

She leaned in to kiss him lightly on the cheek. "Why, so I am."

* * *

 ** _9 February 2009_**

"No, no warming charms," Hermione said, holding up a hand.

Charlie, feeling the weight of the day in every bone of his body, disrobed and surrounded her with his own heat. She smelled like home. Like books and paper and ink, like little boys and laughter and apple pie. When he kissed her, he trembled.

"No warming charms. Why?"

"Only the magic of the rite, that's all. I—" Hermione wrapped naked limbs utterly around him so that he was compelled to lift her up. Her sweet center met his aching need for her and they sighed. "Bill said it would work better that way."

"He would know!" With hope in his heart, but no laughter in his eyes, Charlie slid himself between her folds. The ritual had brought her body to a state of acute arousal and she moaned into his shoulder.

Under the light of the full moon, he took his wife under a warded bower in their own backyard. No eyes could see them, no ear could hear. But he knew—he knew with all the family bond that he had ever felt—that his brothers were nearby, hoping right along with him.

When the sun rose in a pale sky, Hermione stretched underneath the ample blankets that had awaited them. Her smile was as brilliant as springtime.

Despite their many disappointments, Charlie laughed. "You look quite pleased with yourself there, missie."

"You should be pleased with yourself, sirrah," she countered, taking his hand and placing it just under her belly button. Oh, there were a few stretch marks to be seen, these days, but he gloried in them. "Right there. You'll have a son."

"Or a daughter," he managed to retort, his voice constricted with wonder.

"You're a Weasley." Hermione laughed and hugged him tight. "It'll be a son."

* * *

 ** _18 October 2009_**

"Daddy! Daddy!"

Fred turned around with a grin coming immediately to his face. The names Percy had given each of them had grown mostly permanent over the years and Fred knew he was "Daddy" to their sons. He held out both arms and braced himself for the speeding tide of little boys.

"Careful, now! You might knock me down!" he warned the nine- and five-year-olds.

Daniel's face was pale. "Mummy's sick, Daddy. We think it's her tummy."

Fred's heart lurched. "Yeah? The baby?"

Percy huffed. "Babies. Even I know there's more than one in there, Daddy. Mummy's as big as a hippogriff."

Despite the urgency of the moment, Fred had to snort a laugh at that. "Never. Ever. Let her hear you say that, yeah?"

"Fred!"

"Coming!"

"Where's Fa and Papa?" Daniel asked as the boys followed him. He wanted to Apparate to the bedroom, but not with the boys hanging on his words. They might try it and splinch themselves. Percy was a pretty smart kid and he'd done some rather amazing feats of magic already.

"I'll firecall them as soon as I find out how your mum's doing, all right?" Fred grimaced as he reached the upper landing; the boys hadn't even asked about Charlie and those were his twins in there trying to get born. But Charlie wasn't a regular resident even now, though that might change once his sons arrived. . .

"Hermione!"

"Fred!" Hermione's voice was thin. "Healers. I need to go to St. Mungo's. Call your Mum."

"Percy, go to the floo and call Gran, all right? Tell her it's time."

"Right, Dad!" Percy dashed off and Daniel vacillated, half in and half out of the room.

"Mama?"

"Danny. Go on, now. Find my blue bag. Big one. With the umbrella on it."

Their son got right to it and Fred knelt next to his Wife. "What can I do?" He didn't know where to put his hands; Hermione got really sensitive whilst in labor. "Tea? Massage?" He was an expert at massages.

"Healers. Please. Something's off."

Terror struck him and he felt light-headed. But only for a moment. "Apparate? Can you walk to the Floo?"

"Apparate."

"Hermione!" Fred heard his mother's voice spiraling up to the bedroom and felt his knees give way. "Where are you?"

"Up here, Mum. We need to hurry," he said, trying not to sound panicked as Daniel emerged with the blue bag Hermione asked for.

Molly burst into the bedroom, her focus on Hermione. "All right, dear girl. Let's see. . ."

It only took a moment before Mum met Fred's eyes with steely concern. "Get her there. Now. Carry her to the Floo—Levitate, all right? I'll see to the boys."

"Right."

Having direction helped and Fred did as his mother told him, grateful that Hermione kept her eyes trained on his the entire time. At least he knew she was paying attention, no matter how many times her face paled in pain.

Just before he set her gently down, he tossed Floo powder into the fireplace. "St. Mungo's Delivery!" he called loudly.

He didn't even notice his mother and sons bidding them a safe trip.

* * *

 ** _19 October 2009_**

Nicholas Charles Weasley and Regulus Harry Weasley were born into the middle of four grown men who had been sobbing out loud for at least a quarter of an hour. Charlie was collapsed against one wall, holding both his sons against his chest whilst his brothers hovered, hands on his shoulders or providing support for one another whilst the Healers worked on Hermione within a sealed medi-shield that kept all negative biological and magical elements out of the area.

Her heart had stopped twice. She had hemorrhaged. And two little boys had somehow managed to emerge into the world. Smiling broadly with eyes wide open.

The Healers had marveled for a moment before getting to the business of saving Hermione's life.

"Never again," Bill whispered, sliding down to sit next to his next youngest brother.

Fred nodded, sliding one of the twins from Charlie's arms. "So which one is he?" he asked, his voice thick as he tried to focus on what they had.

Charlie sniffled loudly and wiped his eyes with the back of his free arm before peering down at the pale-skinned newborn. "Regulus Harry. Hermione wanted to name him after Regulus because she thought he was a hero."

"Reggie," Fred said brushing his fingers lightly over the straight red hair on the boy's head. "Good to see you, lad."

He was sure he was holding the last of the Weasley sons. And though he might have longed for the ability to sire one of his own, he'd never consider putting Hermione in this kind of danger again. "Well, that's four sons, now," he murmured, glancing up at George, who was pacing between his brothers and the healers.

"Four sons and four fathers, yeah." Still, George met his eyes with a wealth of compassion. _I know it's not what you wanted_ , his gaze said.

Fred nodded. _But it's enough_.

* * *

 ** _1 September 2012_**

"Now, don't forget to owl us tonight," George told his son, his hand on the head of curly red hair. "Persephone said she'd make sure you could find your way around, so ask her if you have any questions."

Fred grinned and wiggled his brows. "And ask her about the Map!"

Hermione sighed and shook her head. "You'll be fine, Percy. Take pictures so that your brothers can see everything, all right?"

"Yes, Mum."

George felt Fred's arm about his shoulders as they watched their firstborn son board the Hogwarts Express. Charlie was writing a book about dragon care and was about to go for his Mastery in Herbology and he was there on Platform 9 3/4 as well, Nick and Reggie running about, chasing cousins and asking them to pretty please try the Canary Cream sweets.

Daniel had a book in his hands, unsurprisingly. Once the train had puffed out of the station, he lifted his head. "Perce told me he was going to prank the Headmistress."

"What?" Hermione demanded.

Bill slipped his son a Sickle and rubbed his brown curly hair. "Nice one, son."

* * *

 ** _19 September 2014_**

"What are you doing?" Hermione asked Fred and George. She'd awakened to a piece of black silk over her eyes and four talented hands caressing her body.

Fred's voice was muffled between her thighs. "Wishing you a happy birthday."

George kissed her before murmuring, "We thought we'd have our cake early."

"Cake?" Her laugh slid into a moan as Fred and George consumed her.

The twins exchanged knowing grins as their House Wife lost herself to them. When she came gently down from her peak of pleasure, Fred kissed her. "So, what do you want for your thirty-fifth birthday, love?" He smiled into her eyes, watching as they lost the glossy satisfaction from their lovemaking to take on a speculative sort of hope.

"Blimey, Fred, she's up to something," George murmured, tracing her skin with one hand whilst his twin studied their Wife. "What is it?"

Hermione took a long breath. "I want to try one more time, Fred. I want you to give me a child."

A chill swept over his body, followed by a perverse longing. "No," he stated, tossing a sheet over her and rolling off the bed to pace. Catching George's stunned gaze, he shook his head emphatically. "You almost died last time, Hermione. I can't—I can't even think of it."

George slid from the bed to join his brother. "You did ask what she wanted."

"Not that."

"Fred. You want it, I know. I can feel it."

Fred rolled his eyes but resumed his pacing as George sat on the bed and watched, alongside Hermione who was seated with the sheet wrapped modestly around her. "It'd be selfish of me," he murmured at length. "We have four children and I'm happy, Hermione. Aren't you?"

"I could be happier," she said with half a smile. "And it is my birthday. . ."

Before the twins ran up the stairs with their own rendition of "Happy Birthday, Mama" and before Daniel presented his mother with a new book, Hermione had persuaded Fred to give her what she wanted.

Kneeling next to her, hope spilling from his heart and eyes, Fred still set conditions. "No rites, this time. We'll try it and if it's fated to happen, if the Covenant allows it, you'll fall pregnant."

"Fair enough."

"And if it doesn't work, 'Mione, we stop, all right? Don't ask me again. I—" Breaking off, he looked at their joined hands, "I don't think I could take it not happening again."

George wrapped his brother tight from behind whilst Hermione sank into his lap. "I promise. No more."

* * *

"What if I can't, George?"

Fred stared at the mirror after his shower. At thirty-six years of age, he was in the prime of his life; he knew that. Frequent laughter had lined his eyes a bit, but love had kept other lines away. He knew himself to be fit and active, and he was happy. Incredibly happy, every day of his life. The Covenant had found his House a Wife and they had a family of nine people. Money was never a problem in this Weasley household, for the men were all good providers and Hermione herself was a famous writer on a variety of subjects. Her championing of causes was legendary and she was a fierce warrior, too.

And all she wanted from him was another chance to make a baby.

"What if I can't?"

"Can't what?" his twin said, opening the door to the bathroom.

"Can't make a child. What if, what if you got all that part? You know?"

George felt like laughing but he could see that Fred was sincerely concerned. "Then she doesn't fall pregnant and you've still got four kids—most of a Quidditch team, yeah? And we're still happy."

"Could you, would you be willing to, er, step in?"

Gobsmacked, George just stared at him. "Bloody hell, Frederick. No, she asked for _you_ , and I'm not going to break her trust. No way in bloody Hell."

"I didn't mean to break her trust. I'd never!" Fred dragged his hands through his hair. "I meant for it to be open, like any other morning, you know?"

Relaxing, George popped up on the vanity top. "I know, but no. If the Covenant wants you to sire a child, you will. Just no bleeding rituals, all right? I'll monitor her, if you want, to make sure she doesn't try anything like that again."

It might be a bit underhanded, but they would not risk Hermione's life for anything.

* * *

 ** _20 September 2014_**

"Are you sure you've been off the potions long enough?" Fred asked his wife of fifteen years.

She smiled into his eyes, beckoning with one hand on the big bed in their bedroom at home. "I actually stopped taking them last month, love. Just in case."

"Oh. Good." Fred had declared he was nervous enough and the idea of trying to have another Make a Baby Weekend away from the comfort of home was too much for him. So George and Bill had taken the non-Hogwarts kids to Romania for a few days. Fred blew out a breath and then had to laugh.

"What is it?" Hermione wondered, rolling up to her knees to reach for him.

Fred felt a knot in his throat. "I just hope . . . I just hope I can give you what you want, sweetheart."

Hermione's voice dipped as she slid from the bed and crossed the floor to him. "What do you want, Fred?" He held himself still as she skated her hands over his body, peeling away his flimsy loungewear effortlessly.

His heart started pounding as if they were sharing their first time together, so many years ago. The reminder made him smile and he pulled her close against his body, feeling himself finally rising to the occasion.

Hermione smiled into his eyes. "I love you."

"I love you, too." And he proceeded to show her, with every touch of his fingers, slide of his tongue, roll of his hips. He told himself to ignore the fact that they were on a Make a Baby Weekend and just to enjoy the rare occasion of having Hermione all to himself.

The notion made him feel playful, so he encouraged her to leave their room and make love in the Lounge, in the Library, and on the wide kitchen table. Her cries echoed off the walls of the halls, his roared against the shower tiles.

And when George and the kids came in through the Floo late Sunday evening, his twin took a deep breath and pulled Nick through the green flames. "We're home, Gred! Had a good time, did you?"

"Mum! We saw dragons!"

Hermione was practically floating down the stairs, Fred right behind her, and George and Bill nodded in satisfaction. Clearly, Fred had had nothing to worry about.

* * *

 ** _31 October 2014_**

"Cast the charm!" Bill demanded.

"You do it. I can't."

"Frederick Gideon Weasley." Bill sighed but nodded, meeting the eyes of each of his brothers before smiling down at their House Wife. "You ready, sweetheart?" He didn't feel like he even had to do the charm; Hermione was blooming.

Still, he complied and the runes glowed bright gold over their wife's womb.

George crowed a victory, Charlie boomed a laugh before doing an impromptu little dance that made the kids call up and ask what was going on. Bill just congratulated Hermione and dropped a kiss on her belly button.

But Fred, Fred's eyes were wet and he knelt on the bed to push Hermione's hair off her forehead. "Happy Birthday, Hermione."

With a tender caress of his jaw, she thanked him.

* * *

 _ **9 June 2015**_

"You're a nervous wreck," Hermione stated, "so here, work with these chopsticks and try to pick up that piece of salad."

Fred's fingers were trembling as he sat next to Hermione's bed at St. Mungo's. "How will this help my being nervous? That's my baby trying to be born, right?" He still sought her eyes for reassurance, for the thousandth time, perhaps. He didn't even want to know what sex the baby would be, because he was determined to be over the moon with whomever showed up. It might be Remus Frederick Weasley (because the Marauders were still their heroes and Harry had already claimed the names James and Sirius) or Viola Frederica Weasley (because Viola was a name from Hermione's favorite Muggle playwright: William Shakespeare).

He worked at the chopsticks, trying to let his brothers joke with him throughout the long laboring hours. George came by, bringing Hermione beautiful roses. Bill and Daniel stopped off with a better lunch than the hospital salad. And Charlie and the twins brought a plush dragon for the baby and chocolate biscuits for Hermione.

Fred had a shiny gift for her, as soon as the baby was born. He would just have to charm the name to the bracelet's surface.

The rising sun glanced off a head of thick red hair the next morning as Fred bent over his baby's tiny face. "Good morning, little one. I'm one of your dads and I've been waiting to meet you for just about forever."

"So have we all," George declared, sighing happily over their daughter. "Welcome to the family, Viola."

They embraced, all four brothers, their treasured House Wife, and four of their five children. Hermione took her daughter and cooed softly into her hair. Viola's eyes opened wide as the air thickened for just an instant over the hospital bed. Then the feeling was gone . . . but not forgotten.

Hermione sighed but she was smiling when she said, "The Covenant is going to just love you."

 _ **The End**_


	30. A New Hope

_A/N:_ This was written by request for **pianomouse** 's birthday. Because sometimes I get an idea. A look into the future for the Weasley family and their Covenant. And, sorry, it has nothing to do with _**Star Wars**_.®

* * *

 **A New Hope**

Percy George Weasley was fourteen when the long-hoped-for baby sister arrived. Viola. His brother Daniel was eleven and they were at Hogwarts when they got the news.

For some reason, he felt his magic stir in him when he met his baby sister. As if the Family Covenant was trying to tell him something. That he had to guard this little girl. Protect her. Keep her safe.

"Did you feel that?" Daniel asked him as they were ostensibly working on their summer homework at the kitchen table. "With the baby?"

Daniel's hair was a lot like their mum's looked in pictures. Percy looked a bit like his namesake, Uncle Percy, who died saving Mum in the War. But mostly, Percy thought he looked like his sire, George. He played Quidditch but he was also at the top of his year in Ravenclaw.

Ravenclaw. He and Daniel had both Sorted there, which had amused his mother but had all the dads up in arms over Christmas hols.

"I did," he told his brother now, keeping his voice low. Father— _William_ who was Daniel's sire—was home and playing with Viola in the lounge not far off. "Like, like she was important, right? A treasure or something."

"Yeah! That! It was so weird." Daniel scratched at his nose.

Percy spelled the resultant ink away without a word. "So, I'm wondering, you know, if the Covenant is getting us ready? Like it got the dads ready?"

Daniel dropped his quill and stared at him, blue eyes huge in face. "Cor! Dad said that he had to wait years for Mum. Years! He was in his twenties I think before they met." Daniel tugged at a curly bit of fringe. "I dunno if I'm ready to be thinking of House Wives yet, Perce."

Percy nodded slowly. "I know. Seems a bit off, but then, Da'" —by whom he meant George of late— "was only a third year when they met Mum. I'll be in fourth this year, you in second."

"D'you think we might meet our Bespoke Witch soon?" Daniel leaned back, looking as if he were thoroughly put off by the idea. But then, he was only eleven. He probably hadn't even had any _interesting_ dreams, yet.

Percy blushed but didn't tell his brother why.

* * *

"Missus Weasley, Mister Weasley. Mister Weasley."

Percy first stared at the men with the white-blond hair who spoke to his parents. Two of the dads—his own and Viola's—were with Mum to take them to the Express as Percy prepared to take on his fourth year at Hogwarts. Between them was a woman with hair of so deep a red as to be almost purple. And in front of that woman—who was quite pretty, Percy supposed—was a girl. A girl with white-blond hair and gray eyes.

And the Covenant stirred in Percy in such as way that he could not mistake it. At all. Because the dads had made sure that he and Daniel understood what this meant.

His heart made a sharp thud in his chest and he looked away, up to his sire, so that he didn't stare. "Da'?"

Daniel sensed that something was wrong, so he quit playing with Viola's feet and came to stand next to him. Da' nodded at the blond man with the snake-headed cane. "Mister Malfoy, Mister Malfoy, Missus Malfoy. Your first is starting Hogwarts this term?"

"As you see."

Percy didn't know why the men all seemed to be glaring quietly at each other, but it was Mum that started talking again. Which didn't surprise Percy at all; Mum was quite the talker.

"Hello, Missus Malfoy. I'm Hermione Weasley. I had heard that the Malfoys had brought a lovely bride home from Finland. It's a pleasure to meet you." The women shook hands and Mum added, "We House Wives have to stick together, you know."

Missus Malfoy smiled for the first time, and Percy thought it was quite a pretty smile. "Thank you, Missus Weasley. I am Leena." She blushed and cast _Muffliato_ before saying something that Percy didn't catch, but that made Mum's cheeks go pink. Percy thought he saw Mum say _Astoria_ , but he didn't know who or what that was.

The Muffling Spell was canceled then and if all the grown-ups looked odd and uncomfortable, Percy didn't know why. He didn't really care because he really only wanted to know one thing. Clearing his throat, he decided to just be like his da'. A Gryff.

He bowed to the girl with the blond hair. "So now that our parents are all acquainted, let me do the same. I'm Percy and this is my brother Daniel. We're in fourth and second years at Hogwarts, so if you have any questions, you can come to us."

Daniel rolled up on his toes. "Children of House Wives have to stick together as well!"

"I'm Tähti," the girl said, performing a curtsy that made Percy's eyes bug out of his head. He felt his cheeks get hot when she met his eyes again afterward and Daniel gripped his arm like he had when he was little and was afraid of something.

"Hi," he and Daniel said at the same time.

"Time to get on the train!" Mister Malfoy-without-a-cane declared suddenly, and there was a kind of organized chaos that resulted in Tähti being between Percy and Daniel as they went to the train.

"I can make that Featherlight for you, if you'd like," Percy offered the girl. Was she their Bespoke Witch? Was she? He had heard of the Hope but it was only this summer that he'd actually considered it as a personal thing. . .

"My father did it already," the girl replied, her voice soft and sweet. "But if you can help me when we find a place to sit? Daddy said that I should find a compartment and look for girls to sit with . . ." She frowned at him and Daniel, but they both did their best to look like gentlemen.

Behind them, he thought he could hear a man shout. "Absolutely not! That is unconscionable. It cannot be!"

"Father sounds so mad!" Tähti said, turning as if she'd return to her parents.

Daniel held up a hand. "Fathers do that sometimes. Especially when the sprogs get on the train. I'm sure he'll be over it by the time you owl him to tell him where you Sorted."

"I'll be in Slytherin. Of course. Just like my fathers."

Percy did _not_ make a face. "Well, I'm sure you'd be welcome there."

When, much later, they heard, "Malfoy, Tähti!" in Professor Longbottom's voice—he was the Deputy Headmaster and Head of Gryffindor—Percy and Daniel exchanged hopeful looks.

The little girl—she looked like a flower, Percy thought—walked carefully to the Sorting Hat. Professor Longbottom smiled gently at her and placed the hat on her head. There wasn't much of a wait before the hat called, "She should be in Ravenclaw!"

Percy and Daniel got to their feet, clapping hard, and Daniel was terribly pleased to see that she smiled at them as well.

She had to be their Bespoke Witch. She had to be.

"I'll write Mum tonight," he told Daniel.

"Good!"

"Welcome to Ravenclaw, Miss Malfoy," their Head of House, Professor Davies, said with a smile.

"We're so glad you sorted here," Daniel said. "Ravenclaw is the best House."

She cast down her eyes, her cheeks flushing pink as they all settled on the bench to wait for the next person. "I'm glad, as well. I was afraid to be here, that I wouldn't know anyone. My mother said she had been nervous as well, but that she had my fathers when she came to England, so she was able to be brave about it."

"Well, you have us, don't you?" Percy said, trying to be smooth like their eldest father.

"You absolutely do," Daniel assured her.

"Thank you," she said with a nod. "That helps a lot."

"We hope so," Percy said, patting her hand just a little.

She smiled.

 _ **~fin~**_

* * *

Tähti means "Star" in Finnish according to behindthename dot com. It's pronounced with a short a (as in American "hat") and with the "h" aspirated before the sound of "tee". Yes, I went to a pronunciation site to have different options so I could try to explain it.

And now, I have an OFFER. Many have said that the presentation of **_Casting the Stake_** was distracting for folks, as I flashed back and forth in time during the first half or so of the story. So. I reformatted a bit and put the entire story into chronological order and have it available as a PDF for download if you're interested. This link is to my tumblr (summerisbittersweet . tumb lr DOT COM post / 1 579 77 783 913 ) and you can find directions for downloading it there, if you'd like. If that doesn't work, go to summerisbittersweet dot tumblr dot com and search for Casting the Stake.


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